American  jHen  of  Hetters. 


EDITED  BY 


CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER. 


American  aften  of  letter^ 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 


BY 


JOHN  BIGELOW 


7BESITTJ 

;<•      — 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 


1890 


Copyright,  1890, 
Br  JOHN  BIGELOW. 


All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside.  Press,  Cambridge,  Manx.,  V.  S  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  Jay  11.  0.  Ilougnton  &  Company. 


PS//SI 
Ss 


PREFACE. 


IF  there  is  any  excuse  for  this  publication,  it 
must  be  found  in  the  fact  that  I  was  associated 
with  Mr.  Bryant  for  many  years  in  the  manage 
ment  of  "  The  Evening  Post "  newspaper,  my  con 
nection  with  it  commencing  at  about  the  same 
period  of  life  as  his ;  in  the  fact  that  we  there 
contracted  personal  relations  which  he  was  pleased 
late  in  life  to  crown  by  naming  me  one  of  the 
executors  of  his  will;  and  finally  in  the  hope  I 
entertain  that  a  compendious  and  comparatively 
inexpensive  sketch  of  his  instructive  career  may 
reach  a  class,  not  inconsiderable  in  numbers,  who 
have  neither  the  leisure  nor  opportunities  for  pe 
rusing  the  elaborate  and  scholarly  biography  by 
Mr.  Godwin. 

Whatever  may  be  the  imperfections  of  this 
work,  —  and  no  one  is  likely  to  be  more  sensible 
of  them  than  I  am,  —  I  permit  myself  to  indulge 
the  hope  that  in  quarters  where  the  nature  and 
importance  of  Bryant's  life-work  are  little  known 


vi  PREFACE. 

or  imperfectly  appreciated,  it  may  assist  to  awaken 
a  curiosity  which  will  not  be  satisfied  until  the 
name  of  Bryant  has  become  a  household  word, 
and  his  example  the  very  lowest  standard  of  pub 
lic  and  private  morals  in  any  American  family. 

THE  SQUIRRELS,  February  3,  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.  ANCESTRY 1 

II.  SCHOOL-DAYS 

III.  LAW  STUDIES 23 

IV.  THE  BARRISTER 

V.   THE  ADVENTURER 54 

VI.   THE  JOURNALIST ™ 

VII.   THE  POET 117 

VIII.  THE  TOURIST 176 

IX.  THE  ORATOR 20° 

X.  PUBLIC  HONORS 215 

XI.  PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS    .        .        .        .258 

XII.  LAST  DAYS      .  ......      297 

APPENDIX  A.    REMINISCENCES  OF  THE  "  EVENING  POST," 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 312 

APPENDIX  B.    BRYANT'S  WILL 343 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ANCESTKY. 

EAKLY  in  the  summer  of  1817,  a  package  of 
manuscript  poems  was  left  at  the  office  of  the 
" North  American  Review" 1  without  their  author's 
name  or  any  intimation  of  their  real  parentage. 
In  due  time  they  found  their  way  into  the  hands 
of  Mr.  William  Phillips,  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
"  Review,"  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

No  sooner  had  he  finished  their  perusal — such  is 
the  tradition  —  than  he  seized  his  hat  and  set  out 
in  hot  haste  for  Cambridge,  to  submit  them  to  his 
editorial  colleagues,  Richard  H.  Dana  and  Edward 
T.  Channing,  who  with  Mr.  Phillips  constituted 
the  Editorial  Trinity  to  whom  the  management  of 
the  "  Review  "  was  then  confided. 

They  listened  while  the  manuscript  was  read, 
and  what  little  was  known  of  its  history  was  reca 
pitulated  to  them.  "  Ah,  Phillips,"  said  Dana  at 
last,  his  face  breaking  the  while  into  a  skeptical 

1  This  Review  was  published  in  Boston,  and  at  this  time  was 
but  two  years  old. 


2  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

smile,  "  you  have  been  imposed  upon.  No  one  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic  is  capable  of  writing  such 
verse."  Mr.  Dana's  view  seemed  to  have  so  many 
presumptions  in  its  favor  that  he  set  out  at  once  to 
Boston  to  investigate  the  subject,  with  the  aid  of 
such  clues  as  the  package  itself  afforded.  The 
final  result  of  his  inquiries  was  that  Phillips, 
though  under  an  erroneous  impression  as  to  the 
author,  had  not  been  imposed  upon  as  to  its  Amer 
ican  genesis. 

The  verses  which  had  produced  such  a  fluttering 
among  the  presiding  justices  of  our  highest  literary 
tribunal  in  those  days  were  not  an  imported  article, 
still  less  the  work  of  any  American  literary  nota 
bility  of  the  period,  but  of  a  country  lad  of  only 
seventeen  years,  residing  at  Cummington,  in  the 
western  part  of  Massachusetts,  who  had  never 
been  out  of  his  native  county  in  his  life.  One  of 
the  poems  was  entitled  "Thanatopsis."  It  appeared 
in  the  September  number  of  the  "  North  American 
Review  "  for  1817,  and  proved  to  be  not  only  the 
finest  poem  which  had  yet  been  produced  on  this 
continent,  but  one  of  the  most  remarkable  poems 
ever  produced  at  such  an  early  age,  and  a  poem 
which  would  have  added  to  the  fame  of  almost  any 
poet  of  any  age,  while  it  would  have  detracted 
from  the  fame  of  none. 

From  the  day  this  poem  appeared,  the  name  of 
its  author,  which  till  then  had  scarcely  been  heard 
farther  from  home  than  the  range  of  the  human 
voice,  was  classed  among  the  most  cherished  liter- 


ANCESTRY.  3 

ary  assets  of  the  nation.  Like  the  mythic  Hermes, 
who  before  the  sun  had  reached  its  zenith  on  the 
day  of  his  birth  had  stolen  and  slaughtered  the 
cattle  of  Apollo,  young  William  Cullen  Bryant, 
with  scarcely  less  startling  precocity,  before  he  was 
out  of  his  teens  had  possessed  himself  of  Apollo's 
lyre,  and  established  himself  as  the  undisputed 
laureate  of  America. 

One  of  the  wisest  of  Spanish  proverbs  says,1 
"  There  is  little  curiosity  about  the  pedigree  of  a 
good  man." 

There  certainly  is  no  higher  patent  of  nobility 
than  goodness,  and  yet  the  biographer  cannot  help 
dwelling  with  satisfaction  upon  the  fact  that  the 
gifted  bard  whose  career  is  to  be  the  theme  of  the 
following  pages  was  descended  through  both  his 
parents  from  passengers  in  the  Mayflower,  the 
oldest  and  noblest  pedigree  of  which  our  republi 
can  heralds  take  any  note.  One  of  these  ances 
tors,  Josiah  Snell,  married  Anna  Alden,  the  grand 
daughter  of  Captain  John  Alden  of  the  Mayflower 
party  and  Priscilla  Mullins,  whose  story  is  so 
sweetly  told  by  Longfellow.2 

The  first  of  the  name  in  this  country  and 
founder  of  the  family,  Stephen  Bryant,  was  also 
one  of  the  Mayflower  party.  The  poet's  great 

1  Al  hombre  bueno  no  le  busqtien  abolengx). 

2  "I  cannot  refer  to  this  poem,"  says  Mr.  Godwin,  "without 
remarking1  how  much  it  adds  to  our  interest  in  John  and  Priscilla 
to  know  that  our  two  earliest  and   most  eminent  poets,  Bryant 
and  Longfellow,  were  descended  from  them."  —  Godwin's  Life, 
I.  50. 


4  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

grandfather,  Ichabod  Bryant,  was  noted  for  his 
gigantic  size  and  strength.  His  grandfather,  Dr. 
Philip  Bryant,  who  was  a  physician,  lived  to  the 
age  of  eighty-five,  and  visited  his  patients  till 
within  a  fortnight  of  his  death.  It  is  related  of 
the  poet's  uncle,  Ebenezer  Snell,  Jr.,  that  while  at 
work  in  his  father's  cornfield,  hearing  unusual 
sounds  he  put  his  ear  to  the  ground  and  recog 
nized  the  thundering  roar  of  distant  cannon.  It 
was  the  memorable  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  He 
enlisted  at  once  as  a  volunteer,  and  later  had  the 
distinguished  privilege  of  witnessing  the  surrender 
of  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga. 

Dr.  Peter  Bryant,  the  father  of  William  Cullen, 
in  defiance  of  obstacles  and  privations  in  early  life 
to  which  a  feeble  nature  must  have  succumbed,  at 
tained  an  honorable  rank  as  a  physician  and  sur 
geon,  was  fond  of  books,  was  well  read  in  his 
profession  according  to  the  standard  of  the  time, 
had  a  more  than  elementary  acquaintance  with 
some  of  the  ancient  and  modern  tongues,  delighted 
in  poetry  and  music,  played  the  violin,  and  was 
sufficiently  handy  with  tools  to  make  for  himself  a 
bass-viol,  upon  which  he  also  learned  to  play. 

His  son  has  described  him  as  a  man  of  a  mild 
and  indulgent  temper,  somewhat  silent,  though  not 
hesitating  in  conversation,  not  thrifty  in  a  worldly 
sense,  his  patients  usually  paying  him  whatever 
they  pleased.  He  was  careful,  however,  and  scru 
pulously  neat  in  his  attire,  and  "  had  a  certain 
metropolitan  air."  In  figure  he  was  square  built, 


ANCESTRY.  5 

with  muscular  arms  and  legs,  and  in  "  his  prime 
was  possessed  of  great  strength."  He  took  a  lively 
interest  in  politics,  and  belonged  to  the  party  called 
Federalists,  who  at  that  time  were  strong  in  Massa 
chusetts,  but  in  the  Union  at  large  in  a  minority. 
He  represented  Cummington  for  several  successive 
years  in  both  branches  of  the  Massachusetts  legis 
lature. 

Of  his  mother,  Sarah  Snell,  the  daughter  of 
Ebenezer  Snell,  of  Cummington,  the  poet  has  left 
the  following  graphic  portrait  :  — 

"  She  was  born  in  North  Bridge  water,  and  was 
brought  by  her  father  when  a  little  child  to  Cum 
mington.  She  was  tall,  of  an  erect  figure,  and 
until  rather  late  in  life  of  an  uncommonly  youthful 
appearance.  She  was  a  person  of  excellent  prac 
tical  sense,  of  a  quick  and  sensitive  moral  judg 
ment,  and  had  no  patience  with  any  form  of  deceit 
or  duplicity.  Her  prompt  condemnation  of  injus 
tice,  ^even  in  those  instances  in  which  it  is  toler 
ated  by  the  world,  made  a  strong  impression  upon 
me  in  early  life,  and  if  in  the  discussion  of  public 
questions  I  have  in  my  riper  age  endeavored  to 
keep  in  view  the  great  rule  of  right  without  much 
regard  to  persons,  it  has  been  owing  in  a  great  de 
gree  to  the  force  of  her  example,  which  taught  me 
never  to  countenance  a  wrong  because  others  did. 
My  mother  was  a  careful  economist,  which  the  cir 
cumstances  of  her  family  compelled  her  to  be,  and 
by  which  she  made  some  amends  for  my  father's 
want  of  attention  to  the  main  chance.  She  had  a 


6  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

habit  of  keeping  a  diary,  in  which  the  simple  oc 
cupations  of  the  day  and  the  occurrences  in  which 
the  family  or  the  neighborhood  had  an  interest 
were  noted  down." 

Having  been  taken  to  a  new  settlement  when  she 
was  only  six  years  old,  Mrs.  Bryant  had  enjoyed 
few  of  the  advantages  of  a  school-taught  educa 
tion.  She  had  managed,  nevertheless,  to  acquire  a 
creditable  mastery  of  the  rudimentary  branches  of 
learning.  As  a  wife  and  mother  she  did  most  of 
the  household  work.  She  spun  and  wove,  cut  and 
made  most  of  the  clothing  of  her  large  family, 
wove  her  own  carpets,  made  her  own  candles, 
taught  her  children  to  read  and  write,  and  was  one 
of  the  first  at  the  bedside  of  the  sick  and  afflicted 
of  her  neighborhood.  She  took  a  lively  interest 
in  public  affairs,  both  state  and  national,  and  ex 
erted  no  inconsiderable  influence  in  promoting 
township  and  neighborhood  improvements.  She 
was,  in  fact,  a  housewife  fashioned  on  the  old  He 
brew  model :  — 

"  The  heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in  her. 
She  will  do  him  good  and  not  evil  all  the  days  of  her 
life. 

"  She  seeketh  wool,  and  flax,  and  worketh  willingly 
with  her  hands. 

"'  She  riseth  also  while  it  is  yet  night,  and  giveth  meat 
to  her 'household,  and  a  portion  to  her  maidens. 

"  She  layeth  her  hands  to  the  spindle,  and  her  hands 
hold  the  distaff. 


ANCESTRY.  1 

t(  She  stretcheth  out  her  hand  to  the  poor ;  yea,  she 
reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needy. 

"  Strength  and  honor  are  her  clothing  ;  and  she  shall 
rejoice  in  time  to  come. 

11  She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom  ;    and  in  her 
tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness. 

"  She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and 
eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness. 

"  Her  children  rise  up,  and  call  her  blessed ;  her  hus 
band  also,  and  he  praiseth  her."  1 
1  Proverbs   xxxi. 


CHAPTER   II. 

SCHOOL-DAYS. 

1794-1810. 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT,  the  second  of  seven 
children  of  Dr.  Peter  and  Sarah  Snell  Bryant,  was 
born  at  Cummington,1  in  the  county  of  Hampshire, 

1  In  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society  Collection,  vol.  xx.  p. 
41,  may  be  found  the  following  account  of  Cummington  as  it  was 
in  1820 :  — 

"Name  derived  from  Col.  Cummings  (John)  of  Concord,  who 
purchased  this  town  of  the  General  Court  June  2d,  1762. 

"Situated  on  a  ridge  of  mountains  and  owing-  to  the  abrupt 
declivities  of  the  hills,  the  pastures  and  woods  may  be  viewed  as 
a  picture. 

' '  Westfield  River,  a  considerable  stream,  rising  in  Windsor  runs 
through  this  town  in  a  southeast  direction,  and  empties  into  the 
Connecticut  at  Westfield. 

"The  inhabitants  have  a  library  of  72  volumes.  The  largest 
private  library  belongs  to  Peter  Bryant,  Esq.,  and  contains  about 
700  volumes. 

"  Hon.  Peter  Bryant,  member  of  Massachusetts  Medical  Socie 
ty,  died  of  pulmonary  consumption  at  his  residence  March  19, 
1820,  in  the  53d  year  of  his  age.  Born  at  Bridgewater  August 
12,  1767.  Studied  physic  and  surgery  at  Norton  with  Dr.  Prilete, 
a  French  practitioner.  When  about  twenty-two  years  of  age 
came  to  Cummington,  where  he  settled  and  acquired  a  very  ex 
tensive  and  lucrative  practice  and  a  reputation  truly  enviable. 
He  was  also  in  the  habit  of  instructing  students  in  medicine. 
These  were  attracted  from  different  parts  of  the  country 


SCHOOL-DA  YS.  9 

in  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  on  the  third  day  of 
the  month  of  November,  1794.  Our  republic,  con 
sisting  then  of  only  fifteen  States,  was  not  quite  ten 
years  old ;  the  second  term  of  our  first  President 
had  not  expired;  Washington,  Jefferson,  Hamil 
ton,  Adams,  Gallatin,  and  Madison  were  foremost 
among-  the  statesmen  to  whom  the  nation  had  con- 

O 

fided  its  political  destinies  ;  they  were  also  the  models 
it  commended  to  the  young  men  of  that  and  suc 
ceeding  generations.  Europe  was  convulsed  by  the 
new  idea  of  human  rights  which  for  the  first  time 
received  national  sanction  and  guaranties  from 
her  wronged  and  exiled  offspring  on  this  side  the 
Atlantic,  while  Kant,  Goethe,  Schiller,  and  Burns 
were  in  an  unconscious  way  doing  what  in  them  lay 
to  reconcile  her  people  to  greater  social  and  political 
changes  which  were  impending. 

William  Cullen  was  thought  to  be  a  precocious 
child.  On  his  first  birthday  there  is  a  record  that 
"  he  could  go  alone,  and  when  but  a  few  days  more 
than  sixteen  months  old,  that  he  knew  all  the  let 
ters  of  the  alphabet." 

by  his  well-selected  library,  his  extensive  practice,  and  his  general 
reputation.  The  advantages  enjoyed  at  this  school  are  thought 
to  have  been  superior  to  any  in  the  western  part  of  the  State. 

' '  In  1806  Williams  College  conferred  on  him  the  degree  of  Mas 
ter  of  Arts,  University  of  Cambridge  that  of  Doctor  of  Physic 
1818. 

According  to  the  Census  of  1820  population  of  Cummington 
1060." 

Cummington  was  incorporated  June  23,  1779.  The  first  town 
meeting  was  held  December  20th,  same  year.  At  this  meeting 
Ebenezer  Snell  among  others  was  elected  one  of  the  selectmen 
and  assessors. 


10  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Though  apt  to  learn,  he  is  reported  to  have  been 
"puny  and  very  delicate  in  body,  and  of  a  pain 
fully  delicate  nervous  temperament." 

Before  he  had  completed  his  fourth  year  he  was 
sent  to  the  district  school,  "  but  not  with  much  regu 
larity." 

"  I  have  no  recollection,"  he  has  told  us,  "  of 
irksomeness  in  studying  my  lessons  or  in  the  dis 
cipline  of  the  school.  I  only  recollect  gathering 
spearmint  by  the  brooks  in  company  with  my  fel 
low  scholars,  taking  off  my  hat  at  their  bidding  in 
a  light  summer  shower  that  the  rain  might  fall  on 
my  hair  and  make  it  grow,  and  that  I  once  awoke 
from  a  sound  nap  to  find  myself  in  the  lap  of  the 
schoolmistress,  and  was  vexed  to  be  thus  treated 
like  a  baby." 

In  the  spring  of  1799,  Dr.  Bryant  went  to  live  at 
the  homestead  of  his  wife's  father,  Ebenezer  Snell, 
a  property  which  is  still  in  the  family.  While 
there  William  went  with  his  elder  brother  Austin 
to  a  district  school  kept  in  a  little  house  which 
then  stood  near  by  on  the  bank  of  the  rivulet  which 
flows  by  the  .dwelling.  The  instruction  which  he 
received  there  was  of  the  most  elementary  char 
acter,  stopping  at  grammar,  unless  we  include 
theology  as  learned  from  the  Westminster  Cate 
chism,  which  was  one  of  the  Saturday  exercises. 

"  I  was  an  excellent,  almost  an  infallible  spell 
er,"  he  tells  us,  "  and  ready  in  geography  ;  but 
in  the  Catechism,  not  understanding  the  abstract 
terms,  I  made  but  little  progress."  He  was  also 


SCHOOL-DAYS.  11 

one  of  the  fleetest  runners  in  the  school,  and  not 
inexpert  at  playing  ball,  though  his  frame  was  too 
light  for  distinction  in  some  of  the  rougher  games. 

In  the  year  1808,  and  in  the  twelfth  year  of  his 
age,  it  having  been  decided  that  he  was  worth 
a  collegiate  education,  he  was  sent  to  live  with 
his  uncle,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Snell,  at  North  Brook- 
field,  to  perfect  himself  in  Latin.  In  eight  months 
he  had  mastered  all  the  language  then  required  for 
admission  to  the  Sophomore  class  at  Williams  Col 
lege,  and  on  the  9th  of  August,  1809,  he  was 
transferred  to  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Moses  Halleck, 
in  the  neighboring  township  of  Plainfield,  to  be 
equipped  with  the  requisite  knowledge  of  Greek. 
He  always  thought  himself  most  fortunate  in  his 
instructors,  especially  in  the  moral  influence  which 
they  exerted  upon  him  at  that  tender  age. 

"  My  Uncle  Snell,"  he  tells  us,  "  was  a  man  of 
fine  personal  appearance  and  great  dignity  of  char 
acter  and  manner,  the  slightest  expression  of  whose 
wish  had  the  force  of  command.  He  was  a  rigid 
moralist,  who  never  held  parley  with  wrong  in  any 
form,  and  was  an  enemy  of  every  kind  of  equiv 
ocation.  As  a  theologian,  he  was  trained  in  the 
school  of  Dr.  Hopkins,  which  then,  I  think,  in 
cluded  most  of  the  country  ministers  of  the  Con 
gregational  Church  in  Massachusetts.  The  Rev. 
Moses  Halleck  was  somewhat  famous  for  preparing 
youths  for  college,  and  his  house  was  called  by 
some  the  Bread  and  Milk  College,  for  the  reason 
that  bread  and  milk  was  a  frequent  dish  at  the 


12  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

good  man's  table.  And  a  good  man  he  really  was, 
kind  and  gentle  and  of  the  most  scrupulous  con 
scientiousness.  '  I  value  Mr.  Halleck,'  my  grand 
father  used  to  say,  '  his  life  is  so  exemplary.'  He 
was  paid  a  dollar  a  week  for  my  board  and  in 
struction.  '  I  can  afford  it  for  that,'  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  saying,  '  and  it  would  not  be  honest  to 
take  more.' ' 

With  such  guides  and  under  such  influences 
young  Bryant  made  marvelous  proficiency.  He 
went  through  the  Colloquies  of  Corderius,  the 
2Eneid,  Eclogues,  and  Georgics  of  Virgil,  and  a 
volume  of  the  Select  Orations  of  Cicero  with  his 
uncle  Snell  in  eight  months,  and  in  two  months 
with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Halleck,  "  knew  the  Greek  Tes 
tament  as  if  it  had  been  English."  He  then  re 
turned  to  his  father's  house  to  perfect  his  prepara 
tions  for  admission  to  college  by  himself,  with  the 
exception  of  two  months  in  the  following  spring 
spent  with  Mr.  Halleck  in  the  study  of  mathe 
matics. 

Bryant  began  to  rhyme  at  almost  as  early  a 
period  of  life  as  a  chicken  begins  to  scratch,  and 
when  scarce  ten  years  old  received  a  ninepenny 
coin  from  his  grandfather  for  a  rhymed  version 
of  the  first  chapter  of  the  book  of  Job.  The  same 
year  he  wrote  and  declaimed  a  rhymed  descrip 
tion  of  the  school  he  attended,  which  was  thought 
worthy  of  a  place  in  the  columns  of  the  county 
paper.  Though  these  early  verses  gave  no  par 
ticular  poetical  promise,  they  were  remarkable  for 


SCHOOL-DAYS.  13 

two  characteristics  by  which  all  his  poetry  was 
destined  to  be  distinguished  :  the  correctness  both 
of  the  measure  and  the  rhyme. 

At  this  early  age  he  had  already  conceived  the 
hope  and  was  inflamed  by  the  ambition  to  be  a 
poet.  There  seemed  to  him  to  be  no  other  kind  of 
success  in  life  so  desirable.  He  greedily  devoured 
whatever  poetry  fell  in  his  way,  and  even  made  the 
favors  of  the  muse  one  of  the  subjects  of  his  daily 
devotions. 

"•  In  a  community  so  religious,"  he  relates,  "  I 
naturally  acquired  habits  of  devotion.  My  mother 
and  grandmother  had  taught  me,  as  soon  as  I  could 
speak,  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  other  little  petitions 
suited  to  childhood,  and  I  may  be  said  to  have 
been  nurtured  on  Watts'  devout  poems  composed 
for  children.  The  prayer  of  the  publican  in  the 
New  Testament  was  often  in  my  mouth,  and  I 
heard  every  variety  of  prayer  at  the  Sunday  even 
ing  services  conducted  by  laymen  in  private  houses. 
But  I  varied  in  my  private  devotions  from  these 
models  in  one  respect,  namely,  in  supplicating,  as 
I  often  did,  that  I  might  receive  the  gift  of  poetic 
genius  and  write  verses  that  might  endure.  I  pre 
sented  this  petition  in  those  early  years  with  great 
fervor,  but  after  a  time  I  discontinued  the  practice, 
I  can  hardly  say  why.  As  a  general  rule,  what 
ever  I  might  innocently  wish  I  did  not  see  why  I 
should  not  ask,  and  I  was  a  firm  believer  in  the 
efficacy  of  prayer.  The  Calvinistic  system  of  di 
vinity  I  adopted,  of  course,  as  I  heard  nothing  else 


14  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

taught  from  the  pulpit,  and  supposed  it  to  be  the 
accepted  belief  of  the  religious  world." 

Bryant  has  recorded  the  delight  with  which  in 
those  early  days  he  and  his  brothers  welcomed  the 
translation  of  the  Iliad  by  Pope,  when  it  was 
added  to  their  household  library.  He  thought 
them  the  finest  verses  that  had  ever  been  written, 
not  a  very  surprising  estimate  for  a  lad  whose 
poetical  diet  had  consisted  mainly  of  the  hymns  of 
Dr.  Watts.  Already,  too,  his  peculiar  suscepti 
bility  to  the  poetical  aspects  of  the  varied  phe 
nomena  of  nature  was  fully  developed. 

"I  was  always,"  he  says,  "from  my  earliest 
years,  a  delighted  observer  of  external  nature,  — 
the  splendors  of  a  winter  daybreak  over  the  wide 
wastes  of  snow  seen  from  our  windows,  the  glories 
of  the  autumnal  woods,  the  gloomy  approaches  of 
the  thunderstorm  and  its  departure  amid  sunshine 
and  rainbows,  the  return  of  the  spring  with  its 
flowers,  and  the  first  snow-fall  of  winter.  The 
poets  fostered  this  taste  in  me,  and  though  at  that 
time  I  rarely  heard  such  things  spoken  of,  it  was 
none  the  less  cherished  in  my  secret  mind." 

The  embargo  laid  upon  all  the  ports  of  the 
republic  at  the  suggestion  of  President  Jefferson 
proved  disastrous  to  many  private  interests  in  New 
England,  and  rendered  the  President  and  his  party 
extremely  unpopular  in  that  section  of  the  Union. 
Dr.  Bryant  was  a  zealous  Federalist,  and  as  he  rep 
resented  that  party  in  the  legislature  for  many 
years,  a  good  deal  of  political  reading  of  an  inflam- 


SCHOOL-DAYS.  15 

matory  character  naturally  found  its  way  into  the 
Bryant  household,  and  made  all  the  boys  more  or 
less  ardent  partisans. 

It  had  already  become  so  much  the  habit  of 
William  Culleii  to  reduce  to  verse  whatever  in 
terested  him  deeply,  that  it  was  probably  with 
out  surprise  that  his  father  learned  his  son  had 
found  relaxation  from  the  study  of  Virgil  and  Cic 
ero  in  inditing  a  satire  against  democracy  and  its 
accredited  chieftain. 

The  tone  of  his  verses  harmonized  so  completely 
with  the  temper  of  the  Federalists  of  Massachu 
setts  in  those  days,  that  his  father  encouraged  him 
to  extend  them  until  they  numbered  some  five  hun 
dred  lines,  which  the  proud  father  took  to  Boston 
and  had  published  in  a  little  pamphlet,  partly  no 
doubt  to  indulge  his  zeal  as  a  politician,  but  more 
to  indulge  his  fatherly  pride.1 

Some  disparaging  lines  about  President  Jeffer 
son,  concluding  with  a  recommendation  to  him  to 
resign  his  office,  have  given  to  this  poem  a  noto 
riety  which  it  never  would  have  acquired  but  for 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Bryant  lived  to  become  one  of 

1  This  poem  appeared  in  a  thin  pamphlet  under  the  title  of 
The  Embargo,  or  Sketches  of  the  Times.  A  Satire  by  a  Youth  of 
Thirteen.  Boston.  Printed  for  the  purchasers,  1808.  It  sold 
promptly,  and  received  enough  praise  from  the  press  to  have 
turned  a  lighter  head  than  Bryant's. 

The  prompt  sale  of  this  satire  encouraged  the  father  to  pub 
lish  a  second  edition  the  following  year,  with  the  addition  of  some 
half-dozen  shorter  poems,  and  the  author's  name  on  the  title- 
page.  In  his  mature  years  Bryant  declined  any  responsibility  for 
these  juvenilia. 


16  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

the  most  influential  champions  of  the  so-called 
Jeffersonian  democracy,  and  for  the  lack  of  more 
effective  weapons,  it  delighted  the  Federal  press 
occasionally  to  quote  these  lines  about  Jefferson, 
omitting  the  fact  that  they  were  written  when  the 
author  was  a  schoolboy  in  roundabouts. 

"  And  thou  the  scorn  of  every  patriot's  name 
Thy  country's  ruin  and  thy  council's  shame  ! 
Poor  servile  thing1 !  derision  of  the  brave  ! 
Who  erst  from  Tarleton  fled  to  Carter's  Cave  ; 
Thou  who  when  menaced  by  perfidious  Gaul, 
Did'st  prostrate  to  her  whisker'd  minion  fall; 
And  when  our  cash  her  empty  bags  supplied 
Did'st  meanly  strive  the  foul  disgrace  to  hide  ; 
Go,  wretch,  resign  the  Presidential  chair, 
Disclose  thy  secret  measures,  foul  or  fair. 
Go  search  with  curious  eye  for  horrid  frogs 
Mid  the  wild  wastes  of  Louisianian  bogs  ; 
Or  where  Ohio  rolls  his  turbid  stream, 
Dig  for  huge  bones,  thy  glory  and  thy  theme. 
Go  scan,  Philosophist,  thy  Sally's  charms, 
And  sink  supinely  in  her  sable  arms  ; 
But  quit  to  abler  hands  the  helm  of  State." 

Not  discouraged  by  Jefferson's  neglect  to  resign 
the  presidency  at  his  bidding,  the  young  poet  is 
next  found  disciplining  Napoleon,  who  also  had  in 
curred  the  censure  of  the  good  people  of  Hamp 
shire  County.  The  genius  of  Columbia  is  invoked, 
and  ten  stanzas  only  are  required  to  bring  "  the 
Eastern  despot's  dire  career "  to  an  ignominious 
close. 

While  neither  the  embargo  nor  any  of  the  forty 
or  fifty  smaller  pieces  of  verse  which  date  from  his 
school-days  were  thought  by  their  author  to  be  wor- 


SCHOOL-DAYS.  17 

thy  of  appearing  in  any  collection  of  his  writings, 
they  were  justly  regarded  by  his  contemporaries  as 
"  the  flowering  laurel  on  his  brow."  Though  but 
"  surface  indications  "  of  vernal  fertility,  they  were 
conspicuous  for  their  correctness  both  in  measure 
and  rhyme,  about  which  he  was  always  singularly 
conscientious.  Nor  had  his  time  been  lost  upon 
them,  for  they  had  given  him  an  uncommon  dex 
terity  in  handling  the  tools  of  the  poet.  Had  he 
not  acquired  this  dexterity  early  in  life  and  before 
he  was  thrown  upon  his  own  resources  for  a  liveli 
hood,  it  may  be  doubted  if  he  would  now  be  most 
widely  known  to  the  world  as  a  poet. 

Bryant  entered  the  sophomore  class  at  Williams 
College  on  the  9th  of  October,  1810.  "  He  was 
well  advanced  in  his  sixteenth  year,"  says  one  of 
his  classmates,  "tall  and  slender  in  his  physical 
structure,  and  having  a  prolific  growth  of  dark 
brown  hair."  He  was  quick  and  dexterous  in  his 
movements,  and  his  younger  brother  used  to  brag 
to  other  boys  about  his  "  stout  brother,"  but  after 
wards  learned  that  his  strength  was  not  so  remark 
able  as  his  skill  and  alertness  in  the  use  of  it.  He 
passed  also  for  being  comely  in  his  appearance. 

Dr.  Fitch  was  President  of  Williams  College 
when  Bryant  entered,  and  was  the  sole  instructor 
of  the  senior  class.  Professor  Chester  Dewey 
taught  the  junior  class,  and  two  recent  graduates 
superintended  the  recitations  of  the  two  lower 
classes.  As  these  four  gentlemen  represented  the 
entire  educational  force  of  this  seat  of  learning  at 


18  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

that  time,  we  are  not  surprised  to  learn  from  the 
poet  himself  "  that  the  standard  of  scholarship 
was  so  low  that  many  graduates  of  those  days 
would  be  no  more  than  prepared  for  admission  as 
freshmen  now." l 

Before  the  close  of  his  first  year  he  asked  from 
the  college  an  honorable  dismission.  His  purpose 
then  was  to  enter  Yale  at  the  commencement  of 
the  next  collegiate  year.2  The  reason  assigned 
for  this  step  was  the  example  of  his  room-mate,  to 
whom  he  was  greatly  attached,  and  who  had  formed 
the  purpose  of  going  to  Yale  at  the  same  time. 
From  some  verses,  however,  which  he  delivered  be 
fore  one  of  the  college  societies,  the  existence  of 
motives  less  complimentary  to  the  college  were  dis 
closed.  They  show  that  he  was  satisfied  neither 
with  the  climate,  town,  college,  nor  its  authorities. 
The  strength  of  his  feeling  upon  the  subject  may 
be  inferred  from  the  following  extract :  — 

"Why  should  I  sing  these  reverend  domes 
Where  Science  rests  in  grave  repose  ? 

1  1874-1875. 

2  In  a  note  addressed  to  the  Rev.  H.  W.  Powers,  written  only 
a  few  months  before  his  death,  in  1878,  Mr.  Bryant  said  :  — 

"  I  entered  Williams  College  a  year  in  advance,  that  is  to  say, 
I  was  matriculated  as  sophomore,  never  having  been  a  freshman. 
I  remained  there  two  terms  only,  but  I  pursued  my  studies  with 
the  intent  to  become  a  student  at  Yale,  for  which  I  prepared  my 
self,  intending  to  enter  the  junior  class  there.  My  father,  how 
ever,  was  not  able,  as  he  told  me,  to  bear  the  expense.  I  had  re 
ceived  an  honorable  dismission  from  Williams  College,  and  was 
much  disappointed  at  being  obliged  to  end  my  college  course  in 
that  way." 


SCHOOL- DA  YS.  19 

Ah  me  !  their  terrors  and  their  glooms 
Only  the  wretched  inmate  knows. 
Where  through  the  horror  breathing  hall 
The  pale-faced  moping  students  crawl 
Like  spectral  monuments  of  woe  : 
Or,  drooping,  seek  the  unwholesome  cell 
Where  shade  and  dust  and  cobwebs  dwell, 
Dark,  dirty,  dank  and  low.' ' 

The  facts  were  that  the  college  was  poor,  the  stu 
dents  were  generally  poor,  the  instruction  in  the 
main  must  have  been  poor,  and,  to  a  person  brought 
up  as  Bryant  had  been,  the  diet  and  domestic  ac 
commodations  seemed  and  doubtless  were  poor. 

"  When  the  time  drew  near  that  I  should  apply 
for  admission  at  Yale,"  says  Bryant,  "  my  father 
told  me  that  his  means  did  not  allow  him  to  main 
tain  me  at  New  Haven,  and  that  I  must  give  up 
the  idea  of  a  full  course  of  education.  I  have 
always  thought  this  unfortunate  for  me,  since  it 
left  me  but  superficially  acquainted  with  several 
branches  of  education  which  a  college  course  would 
have  enabled  me  to  master  and  would  have  given 
me  greater  readiness  in  their  application." 

We  only  feel  the  want  of  what  we  have  not, 
commonly  overlooking  what  Providence  may  have 
substituted  in  its  place,  and  it  was  natural  for 
Bryant  to  regret  his  ignorance  of  what  he  might 
have  learned  in  the  two  succeeding  years  at  Yale ; 
but  I  have  little  doubt  that  he  passed  that  time  far 
more  profitably  than  he  was  likely  to  have  passed 
it  in  any  American  college  of  that  period,  or, 
indeed,  perhaps  of  any  period.  He  was  at  home, 


20  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

and  surrounded,  as  he  would  not  have  been  at  col 
lege,  with  the  choicest  domestic  influences,  and  was 
as  diligent  a  student  as  he  could  or  should  have 
been  anywhere.  If  he  lacked  some  advantages,  he 
secured  others  of  equal  or  greater  value,  among 
which  the  employments  of  the  farm  and  an  active 
open-air  life  were  to  him  of  prime  importance.1 

He  carefully  explored  his  father's  medical  library, 
and  read  so  much  in  it  and  with  such  profit  that 
he  narrowly  escaped  being  a  physician.  By  the 
aid  of  experiments  performed  in  his  father's  labo 
ratory  and  such  text-books  as  he  found  at  hand,  he 
acquired  more  than  a  smattering  of  chemistry. 
From  some  books- in  which  the  Linnaaan  system 
was  explained  and  illustrated,  he  made  himself 
quite  an  accomplished  botanist.  He  devoured,  be 
sides,  all  the  poetry  he  could  lay  his  hands  on ; 
enlarged  his  acquaintance  with  the  literature  of 
antiquity,  of  which  he  had  before  only  possessed 
himself  partially  of  the  languages  ;  made  extensive 
translations  from  Lucian's  Dialogues  of  the  Dead 

1  The  quality  of  his  daily  life  at  this  period  may  be  gathered 
from  the  following-  lines  written  in  1812.  They  also  show  that  he 
was  not  quite  reconciled  to  the  "peasant's  toil "  which  filled  each 
' '  long1  laborious  day, ' '  in  this  respect  not  differing  from  most 
other  boys :  — 

"  The  time  has  been  when  fresh  as  air 
I  loved  at  morn  the  hills  to  climb. 
With  dew  drenched  feet  and  bosom  bare 
And  ponder  on  the  artless  rhyme  ; 
And  through  the  long  laborious  day 
(For  mine  has  been  the  peasant's  toil), 
I  hummed  the  meditated  lay 
While  the  slow  oxen  turned  the  soil." 


SCHOOL-DA  YS.  21 

in  prose,  and  from  Anacreon,  Bion,  and  Sophocles 
in  verse,  and  became  thoroughly  imbued  with  what 
was  least  perishable  in  the  writings  of  Burns,  Cow- 
per,  Thompson,  Wordsworth,  and  Southey,  and 
later  of  Henry  Kirke  White,  whose  poetry  had  for 
him  at  that  time  a  peculiar  fascination. 

"  The  melancholy  tone  which  prevails  in  them," 
he  says,  "  deepened  the  interest  with  which  I  read 
them,  for  about  that  time  I  had,  as  young  poets  are 
apt  to  have,  a  liking  for  poetry  of  a  querulous 
cast." 

"  Enterprising  poverty,"  says  Horace,  "  made  me 
a  poet."  l  The  restrictions,  privations,  and  depress 
ing  associations  which  are  the  heritage  of  the  youth 
ful  poor  always  lead  them,  at  the  age  when  the  imag 
ination  is  yet  more  active  than  the  judgment,  to 
make  a  world  for  themselves  which  is  abundantly 
equipped  with  what  their  real  life  most  lacks.  To 
perpetuate  these  dreams  in  verse  is  as  natural  for 
them  as  to  fly  to  shelter  from  a  storm,  or  to  seek 
food  when  hungry. 

The  measure  of  poverty  which  recalled  Bryant 
from  college,  which  shut  out  from  his  gaze  the 
great  world  and  the  expanded  life  about  which  he 
had  read  in  his  books,  which  condemned  him  to  the 
"peasant's  toil"  on  his  father's  farm,  and  the 
sequestered  life  of  his  native  village  drove  him 
early  — 

1  Decisis  humilem  pennis,  inopemque  paterni 
Et  laris  et  fundi,  paupertas  impulit  audax 
Ut  versus  facerem. 

Epist.  II.  2.  50. 


22  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

"  To  quiet  valley  and  shaded  glen 

And  forest  and  meadow  and  slope  of  hill," 

where  his  teeming  fancy  constructed  a  world  more 
to  his  taste,  a  world  which  expanded  with  his  years, 
and  in  which  he  was  destined  to  pass  the  happiest 
and  by  far  the  largest  portion  of  his  life.  Let 
the  aspiring  lad  who  drags  the  chain  of  poverty, 
and  who  sighs  for  the  opportunities  which  wealth 
alone  confers,  consider  that  those  who  have  such 
opportunities  pretty  uniformly  dwell  in  houses 
made  with  hands,  and  know  nothing  of  the  cloud- 
capped  towers  and  gorgeous  palaces  which  the  im 
agination  provides  so  generously  for  the  gifted 
poor.  Hence  perhaps  it  is,  that  great  poets  are  so 
scarce  who  in  their  early  years  have  been  swathed 
in  purple  and  fine  linen  and  fared  sumptuously 
every  day. 


CHAPTER   III. 

LAW    STUDIES. 

1811-1814. 

IF  his  parents  could  not  allow  William  Cullen 
the  means  of  completing  his  course  of  study  at  col 
lege,  William  Cullen  was  not  the  sort  of  boy  to 
allow  himself  to  settle  down  at  home  in  permanent 
dependence  upon  them.  With  four  brothers,  each 
more  robust  than  himself,  his  services  on  the  farm 
were  superfluous.  Where  and  how  was  he  to  pro 
vide  for  himself  was  the  question  which  intruded 
upon  him  perpetually  from  the  moment  he  be 
came  aware  that  his  academic  hopes  were  extin 
guished.  He  did  not  think  seriously  of  literature 
for  a  livelihood,  though  all  his  tastes  allured  him 
in  that  direction.  He  had  as  yet  no  assurance  of 
his  ability  to  attain  any  prominence  among  the 
men  of  letters  of  his  generation,  and,  had  he  meas 
ured  his  forces  less  modestly,  no  one  knew  better 
than  he  that  literature  in  those  days  was  anything 
but  a  bread-winning  profession. 

It  had  been  taken  for  granted  almost  from  his 
birth  that  he  was  to  follow  the  calling  to  which  his 
paternal  ancestors  for  three  successive  generations 


24  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

had  been  trained ;  but  the  hardships  of  that  calling 
had  proved  so  trying,  and  its  rewards  so  scanty,  that 
Dr.  Bryant  was  indisposed  to  entail  it  upon  any 
of  his  descendants.  Perhaps,  too,  by  the  time  this 
crisis  occurred  in  the  young  man's  fortune,  Dr. 
Bryant  had  reached  the  conclusion  at  which  most 
intelligent  physicians  sooner  or  later  arrive,  that 
they  are  more  dependent  for  their  livelihood  upon 
the  credulity  and  ignorance  of  their  patients  than 
upon  their  own  skill,  and  he  did  not  care  to  intro 
duce  his  son  to  a  profession  in  which  he  might 
prove  too  conscientious  to  succeed. 

The  lively  interest  in  the  politics  of  the  country 
which  William  Cullen  had  exhibited  from  his  ear 
liest  youth,  and  the  success  with  which  in  his  verses 
he  had  on  several  occasions  interpreted  popular 
emotions,  suggested  for  him  a  public  career.  To 
that,  the  profession  of  the  law  was  then  the  'most 
if  not  the  only  remunerative  avenue.  The  art  of 
entering  public  life  penniless  and  in  a  few  years 
blooming  into  a  millionaire  was  the  discovery  of  a 
considerably  later  stage  of  republican  evolution. 

The  law  was  not  precisely  the  calling  to  which 
he  could  consecrate  himself  with  his  whole  heart, 
and  he  was  not  without  misgivings  that  his  shy  and 
sensitive  nature  unfitted  him  for  the  life  of  con 
flict  by  which  the  votaries  of  Themis  have  to  win 
their  laurels.  Still  it  offered  him  the  readiest 
means  then  in  sight  of  earning  his  bread  by  his 
brains  and  a  final  exemption  from  the  detested 
"peasant  toil."  These  considerations,  strength- 


LA  W  STUDIES.  25 

ened,  as  lie  thought,  by  a  perusal  of  the  "  Life  of 
Sir  William  Jones,"  1  "  kicked  the  beam,"  and  in 
December  of  the  year  he  quit  college,  and  in  the 
seventeenth  year  of  his  age  he  entered  the  law 
office  of  a  Mr.  Howe,  of  Worthington,  a  quiet 
little  village  some  four  or  five  miles  from  Cum- 
mington. 

A  young  man's  first  year's  study  of  the  law 
commonly  affects  him  like  his  first  cigar,  or  his 
first  experience  "  before  the  mast."  Such  appears 
to  have  been  Bryant's  experience.  His  new  work, 
which  he  was  too  conscientious  to  neglect,  was  not 
"peasant's  toil,"  but  it  was  scarcely  less  irksome 
to  him.  He  sighed  for  the  companionship  and 
studies  of  his  old  classmates.  Worthington  he 
described  to  one  of  them  in  one  of  his  moments 
of  dejection  as  consisting  of  "  a  blacksmith's  shop 
and  a  cow  stable,"  where  his  only  congenial  enter 
tainment  was  derived  from  the  pages  of  Irving's 
u  Knickerbocker." 


1  "One  day,"  says  Bryant  in  his  autobiographic  sketch,  "my 
uncle  brought  home  a  quarto  volume,  the  Life  of  Sir  William 
Jones,  by  Lord  Teignmouth,  which  he  had  borrowed,  as  I  imag 
ine,  expressly  for  my  reading.  I  read  it  with  great  interest,  and 
was  much  impressed  with  the  extensive  scholarship  and  other 
literary  accomplishments  of  Sir  William.  I  am  pretty  sure  that 
his  example  made  me  afterward  more  diligent  in  my  studies,  and 
I  think  also  that  it  inclined  me  to  the  profession  of  the  law,  which 
in  due  time  I  embraced.  I  recollect  that  a  clergyman  from  a 
neighboring  parish  who  came  to  exchange  pulpits  with  my  uncle 
observing  me  occupied  with  the  book  kindly  said  to  me :  '  You 
have  only  to  be  as  diligent  in  your  studies  as  that  great  man  was, 
and.  in  time,  you  may  write  as  fine  verses  as  he  did.'  " 


26  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

He  was  too  shy  to  enjoy  the  little  society  that  was 
accessible  to  him,  and  incurred  a  rebuke  from  Mr. 
Howe  for  giving  to  Wordsworth's  "  Lyrical  Bal 
lads  "  time  that  belonged  to  Blackstone  and  Chitty. 
Then,  too,  he  appears  about  this  time  to  have  ex 
perienced  an  affection  of  the  heart  to  which  all 
young  men  of  his  age  are  subject,  especially  if  their 
time  is  not  fully  or  pleasantly  occupied.  Nothing 
came  of  it,  however,  except  verses.  Even  the  name 
of  their  inspiration  has  not  been  preserved.  She 
had  "  blue  eyes,"  .  .  .  "of  timid  look  and  soft 
retiring  mien,"  .  .  .  "  moist  lip  and  airy  grace  of 
frame."  So  much  we  learn  from  his  tell-tale  muse. 
For  two  summers  the  young  poet  seems  to  have 
worn  the  colors  of  this  mysterious  maid.  Then  mis 
givings  began  to  disturb  the  current  of  his  passion, 
which  soon  terminated  in  an  explosion  and  a  dec 
laration  of  independence.  His  fair  one  seems  to 
have  tried  to  impose  terms  upon  her  thrall  which 
his  pride  resented,  and  he  took  his  leave  of  her  and 
of  Love  in  terms  which  showed  that  his  disen 
chantment  was  complete. 

"  I  knew  thee  fair  —  I  deemed  thee  free 

From  fraud  and  guile  and  faithless  art ; 
Yet  had  I  seen  as  now  I  see 

Thine  image  ne'er  had  stained  my  heart. 

"  Trust  not  too  far  thy  beauty's  charms. 

Though  fair  the  hand  that  wove  my  chain 
I  will  not  stoop  with  fettered  arms, 
To  do  the  homage  I  disdain. 


LAW  STUDIES.  27 

' '  Yes,  Love  has  lost  his  power  to  wound  j 

I  gave  the  treacherous  homicide. 
With  bow  unstrung1  and  pinions  bound, 
A  captive  to  the  hand  of  pride." 

This  heroic  termination  of  his  first  love  affair  was 
naturally  the  prelude  to  other  changes.  Worth- 
ington  was  too  small  a  place,  and  its  literary  and 
social  horizon  too  circumscribed,  to  long  content  a 
young  man  who  already  felt  the  expansive  forces 
of  genius.  He  pined  for  the  privilege  of  pursu 
ing  his  studies  in  Boston.  His  father  replied  to 
his  appeals  that  they  could  not  be  indulged  except 
at  an  expense  which  would  work  injustice  to  the 
other  members  of  the  family.  They  compromised, 
and  he  went  to  Bridgewater,  a  somewhat  larger 
town  than  Worthingtoii  and  the  residence  of  his 
grandfather,  Dr.  Philip  Bryant,  with  whom  he  was 
to  reside.  He  there  entered  the  law  office  of  Mr. 
William  Baylies,  a  cultivated  gentleman  and  a 
jurist  of  considerable  repute. 

Young  Bryant  found  the  association  congenial 
in  every  way,  and  at  once  concentrated  upon  the 
studies  of  his  profession  all  the  devotion  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  waste  upon  "  blue  eyes  "  and 
"  moist  lips  "  during  his  residence  at  Worthington. 

This  change  of  state  is  faithfully  noted  in  some 
lines  addressed  about  this  time  "  to  a  friend  on  his 
marriage,"  and  published  a  few  years  later  in  the 
"  North  American  Review." 

"O'er  Coke's  black  letter 
Trimming  the  lamp  at  eve,  'tis  mine  to  pore, 
Well  pleased  to  see  the  venerable  sage 


28  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Unlock  his  treasured  wealth  of  legal  lore  ; 

And  I  that  loved  to  trace  the  woods  before, 

And  climb  the  hills  a  playmate  of  the  breeze, 

Have  vowed  to  tune  the  rural  lay  no  more, 

Have  bid  my  useless  classics  sleep  at  ease, 

And  left  the  race  of  Bards  to  scribble,  starve,  and  freeze." 

Bryant  a  little  overstated  the  measure  of  liis  loyalty 
to  "  Coke's  black  letter,"  for  within  a  month  after 
his  installation  at  Bridgewater  he  appears  in  the 
role  of  "  the  poet "  at  a  Fourth,  of  July  celebra 
tion  in  the  village,  and,  while  deploring  in  some 
indifferent  verses  the  folly  of  war,  rejoiced  over  the 
downfall  of  Napoleon,  upon  whose  movements  he 
still  kept  a  pretty  sharp  eye,  and  to  heaven  and 
England  ascribed  all  the  honor  and  glory  of  deliv 
ering  the  world  from  a  scourge. 

' '  To  thee  the  mighty  plan  we  owe 

That  bade  the  world  be  free  ; 
The  thanks  of  nations,  Queen  of  Isles, 

Are  poured  to  heaven  and  thee. 
Yes,  hadst  not  thou  with  fearless  arm 

Stayed  the  descending  scourge, 
These  strains,  that  chant  a  nation's  birth, 

Had  haply  hymned  its  dirge." 

This  poem,  howrever,  deserves  to  be  regarded  rather 
as  the  discharge  of  a  civic  duty  than  an  infidelity 
to  Coke,  and  certain  it  is  that  the  written  evidences 
that  survive  of  his  assiduity  as  a  law  student  at 
this  period  are  abundant  and  conclusive. 

The  best  possible  proof  of  his  diligence  may 
be  found  in  the  relations  the  young  student  early 
established  with  Mr.  Baylies,  who  during  his  ab- 


LAW  STUDIES.  29 

sence  at  the  seat  of  government 1  appears  by  their 
correspondence  to  have  left  his  home  business,  po 
litical  as  well  as  professional,  mainly  in  Bryant's 
hands.  His  constituents  were  wont  to  repair  to 
Bryant  to  learn  what  their  representative  at  Wash 
ington  thought  and  was  doing,  and  Baylies  stud 
ied  Bryant's  letters  to  know  the  views  of  his 
constituents.  The  war  of  1812  was  very  unpop 
ular  in  Bridgewater.  Mr.  Madison  was  known  as 
"  His  Imbecility "  in  the  young  patriot's  corre 
spondence,  and  "  His  Imbecility  "  was  warned  if  he 
imposed  any  more  taxes  the  people  would  revolt. 
Nay,  this  predestined  editor  of  the  New  York 
"  Evening  Post,"  and  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
and  uncompromising  of  all  the  American  Ciceros 
in  denouncing  the  Catilines  of  disunion  a  half  cen 
tury  later,  did  not  hesitate,  in  one  of  his  ecstasies 
of  youthful  enthusiasm,  to  advise  an  open  defiance 
of  the  Federal  government  if  it  persisted  in  the 
war.  He  even  solicited  a  commission  in  the  army, 
not  for  the  defense  of  the  United  States,  but  for 
the  defense  of  his  native  State  against  the  United 
States,  and  the  letter  in  which  he  opened  his  pur 
pose  to  his  father  in  October,  1814,  was  as  full  of 
treason  as  the  Southern  Confederate  manifesto  of 
1860. 

"  I  have  a  question  for  you,"  he  wrote,  "  whether 
it  would  be  proper  for  me  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  army  which  is  to  be  raised  by  voluntary 

1  Mr.   Baylies   was   a   member   of    Congress    almost     uninter 
ruptedly  from  1809  to  1817,  and  again  for  the  years  1833-34-35. 


30  WILLIAM   CULL  EN    BRYANT. 

enlistment  for  the  defense  of  the  State.  Attached 
as  you  are  to  your  native  soil,  to  its  rights  and 
safety,  you  could  not  surely  be  unwilling  that  your 
son  should  proffer  his  best  exertions  and  even  his 
life  to  preserve  them  from  violation.  The  force 
now  to  be  organized  may  not  be  altogether  em 
ployed  against  a  foreign  enemy  ;  it  may  become 
necessary  to  wield  it  against  an  intestine  foe  in 
the  defense  of  dearer  rights  than  those  which  are 
endangered  in  a  contest  with  Great  Britain.  If  we 
create  a  standing  army  of  our  oiun  —  -if  we  take 
into  our  oivn  hands  the  public  revenue  (for  these 
things  are  contemplated  in  the  answer  to  the 
Governor's  message)  we  so  far  throw  off  all  our 
allegiance  to  the  general  government ;  we  disclaim 
its  control  and  revert  to  an  independent  empire. 
The  posture  therefore  which  is  now  taken  by  the 
State  Legislature,  if  followed  up  by  correspondent 
measures,  is  not  without  hazard.  If  we  proceed 
in  the  manner  we  have  begun  and  escape  a  civil 
war,  it  will  probably  be  because  the  Administra 
tion  is  awed  by  our  strength  from  attempting  our 
subjection.  By  increasing  that  strength,  therefore, 
we  shall  lessen  the  probabilit}7  of  bloodshed.  Every 
individual  who  helps  forward  the  work  of  collect 
ing  this  army  takes  the  most  efficient  means  in  his 
power  to  bring  the  present  state  of  things  to  a 
happy  conclusion.  ...  It  is  not  probable  that  the 
struggle  in  which  we  are  to  be  engaged  will  be  a 
long  one.  The  war  with  Britain  certainly  will  not. 
The  people  cannot  exist  under  it,  and  if  the  gov- 


LA  \V  STUDIES,  31 

ernment  will  not  make  peace  Massachusetts  must. 
Whether  there  may  be  an  intestine  contest  or  not 
admits  of  doubt ;  and  if  there  should  be,  the  entire 
hopelessness  of  the  Southern  States  succeeding 
against  us  will  probably  terminate  it  after  the  first 
paroxysm  of  anger  and  malignity  is  over." 

It  is  curious  and  instructive  to  see  how  precisely 
the  arguments  used  by  this  hyper-patriotic  young 
enthusiast  correspond  with  those  by  which  the 
Southern  States  of  our  Union,  less  than  a  half 
century  later,  were  beguiled  into  open  rebellion 
against  the  same  national  government.  He  rec 
ommends  "  a  standing  army  of  our  own,"  to  be 
officered  "  not  by  the  President "  but  "  by  our  Gov 
ernor,"  and  "the  taking  into  our  own  hands  the 
public  revenue,"  the  very  step  that  compelled  the 
military  occupation  of  Fort  Sumter  by  Federal 
troops.  These,  like  similar  measures  in  1860, 
were  expected  "  to  awe  the  administration  at 
Washington  from  attempting  our  subjection " 
and  to  be  followed,  as  proposed  in  1861,  by  an 
alliance  with  England  and  the  final  reduction  of 
the  Southern  States,  either  by  the  superior  force 
of  these  Northern  Confederates,  or  by  despair,  as 
later  the  Northern  States  were  confidently  ex 
pected  to  yield  to  the  assumed  physical  or  moral 
superiority  of  the  Southern  Confederates. 

Not  long  after  the  letter  to  his  father  just  cited 
was  written,  Bryant  wrote  another  to  Mr.  Baylies, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  said  :  — 

"  We  hear  that  you  legislators  have  got  through 


32  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

with  the  Conscription  bill  and  it  is  presented  to  the 
President  to  receive  his  sanction.  God  forgive  the 
poor  perjured  wretch  ['  His  Imbecility,'  Mr.  Mad 
ison,  is  the  unfortunate  party  here  referred  to]  if 
he  dare  sign  it.  If  the  people  of  New  England 
acquiesce  in  this  law  I  will  forswear  Federalism."  1 

Bryant  proved  as  good  as  his  word.  The  people 
of  New  England  did  acquiesce,  and  he  did  for 
swear  Federalism. 

If  the  people  of  South  Carolina,  when  they  fired 
upon  Fort  Sumter  to  prevent  the  collection  of  the 
Federal  revenues  in  the  port  of  Charleston,  in 
1861,  had  been  able  to  quote  this  letter,  which  its 
author  had,  no  doubt,  forgotten,  his  unfaltering 
sense  of  justice  would  possibly  have  constrained  him 
to  deal  more  charitably  with  at  least  that  portion  of 
the  insurgent  population  that  was  under  twenty- 
one  years  of  age  than  he  did,  or  than  the  public 
opinion  of  the  North  was  then  prepared  to  tolerate. 

The  family  seem  to  have  done  nothing  to  dis 
courage  William  Cullen's  military  aspirations,  for 
in  the  year  following,  in  July,  1816,  a  commission 
as  adjutant  in  the  Massachusetts  militia  was  sent 
to  him.2  Meantime,  however,  the  treaty  of  peace 

1  This  threat  was  ' '  the  last  ditch  ' '  in  embryo. 

'2   The    following-   letter,  dated   Cummington,    November   16, 
1814,   has  recently  been  discovered  in  the  Massachusetts  State 
Archives.     The  Hartford  Convention  met  on  the  15th  of  Decem 
ber  following- :  — 
To  his  Excellency  Caleb  Strong,  Governor  and  Commander-in-chief 

of  tfie  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts: 

Humbly  represents  that  William  C.  Bryant,  of  Cummingion, 
in  the  County  of  Hampshire,  your  petitioner,  being-  desirous  to 


LAW  STUDIES.  33 

had  been  negotiated  at  Ghent,  and  the  Federalists 
were  so  delighted  with  the  result  that  Bryant  con 
cluded  to  throw  up  his  commission  and  to  give  the 
government  at  Washington  another  trial. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  army  which  has  fur 
nished  the  inspiration  of  so  much  good  poetry  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  given  to  the  world  a  single 
great  poet,  and  yet  the  most  eminent  English  and 
the  most  eminent  American  poet  were  both  at  one 
time  on  the  point  of  embracing  the  profession  of 
arms.1  Had  they  done  so,  it  is  doubtful  if  either 
would  ever  have  been  heard  of  again  as  a  bard. 

In  August  of  the  year  in  which  the  war  with 
England  was  brought  to  a  close,  Bryant  came  of 
age  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  With  his  license 
in  his  pocket  he  took  leave  of  Bridgewater  on  the 
15th  of  the  month,  and  returned  to  his  family  in 
Cumrnington,  to  take  counsel  in  regard  to  the  fu 
ture,  towards  which  he  had  thus  far  been  walking 
by  faith  rather  than  by  sight. 

enter  the  service  of  the  State,  in  the  present  struggle  with  a  pow 
erful  enemy,  respectfully  solicits  your  Excellency  for  a  lieuten 
ancy  in  the  army  about  to  be  raised  for  the  protection  and  defense 
of  Massachusetts.  Your  petitioner  presumes  not  to  choose  his 
station,  but  were  he  permitted  to  express  a  preference,  he  would 
request  the  place  of  first  lieutenant  in  the  First  Regiment  of  In 
fantry,  but  in  this,  as  becomes  him  in  all  things,  he  is  willing  to 
rest  on  your  Excellency's  decision.  Should  your  Excellency  be 
induced  to  favor  his  wishes  in  this  respect,  he  hopes  to  be  faithful 
and  assiduous  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  And  your  petitioner 
shall  ever  pray,  etc.  WILLIAM  C.  BRYANT. 

1  Phillips  tells  us  that  it  was  in  contemplation  at  one  time  to 
make  his  uncle,  John  Milton,  adjutant-general  in  Sir  William 
Waller's  army. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   BARRISTER. 

1815-1822. 

WHERE  young  Bryant  was  to  pursue  his  profes 
sion  was  now  as  embarrassing  a  problem  in  the 
Bryant  household  as  the  choice  of  a  profession  to 
pursue  had  been  four  years  before.  He  yearned 
to  go  to  Boston ;  but  how  was  an  unknown  and 
morbidly  shy  young  man  like  him  to  subsist  in  that 
comparatively  expensive  city  while  its  inhabitants 
were  discovering  his  professional  merits  ?  North 
ampton,  New  Bedford,  and  other  places  were  in 
turn  discussed,  but  for  one  reason  or  another  re 
jected,  and  finally,  taking  counsel  of  the  family 
exchequer,  he  decided  "  to  settle  "  at  Plainfield,  a 
modest  village  in  full  view  of  Cummington,  though 
four  or  five  miles  distant,  where,  though  his  legal 
skill  might  not  be  in  great  demand,  his  expenses 
would  be  proportionately  light.  Plainfield  is  still 
a  village  of  less  than  five  hundred  inhabitants. 
Seventy  years  ago,  when  the  sign  of  "  William  Cul- 
len  Bryant,  Attorney-at-Law  "  decorated  its  princi 
pal  street,  it  had  less  than  one  fourth  its  present 
population.  Time  has  vindicated  the  conclusion 


THE  BARRISTER.  35 

which  soon  forced  itself  upon  him,  that  there  was 
no  future  for  a  lawyer  in  Plainfield,  and  that  the 
earliest  opportunity  of  taking  his  professional  ac 
complishments  to  a  better  market  was  not  to  be 
neglected.  He  had  been  there  but  about  eight 
months  when  he  was  invited  to  enter  into  partner 
ship  with  a  young  lawyer  of  Great  Harrington, 
whose  practice  was  then  worth  about  $1200  a  year. 
Bryant  accepted  the  proposal  with  alacrity,  and 
early  in  the  month  of  October,  1816,  set  out  for 
his  new  field  of  labor  on  the  banks  of  the  Housa- 
tonic.  Of  this  change  of  base,  Bryant  has  left  the 
following  account :  — 

"  I  had  attempted  the  practice  of  the  law  in  a 
neighborhood  where  there  was  little  employment 
for  one  of  my  profession,  and,  after  a  twelve 
months'  trial,  I  transferred  my  residence  to  Great 
Harrington,  near  the  birthplace  and  summer  resi 
dence  of  Miss  Sedgwick,  in  the  pleasant  county  of 
Berkshire.  It  was  on  the  3d  of  October  that  I 
made  the  journey  thither  from  Cummington.  The 
woods  were  in  all  the  glory  of  autumn,  and  [in 
1871]  I  well  remember  as  I  passed  through  Stock- 
bridge  how  much  I  was  struck  by  the  beauty  of 
the  smooth  green  meadows  on  the  banks  of  that 
lovely  river  which  winds  near  the  Sedgwick  fam 
ily  mansion  ;  the  Housatonic,  whose  gently  flow 
ing  waters  seemed  tinged  with  the  gold  and  crim 
son  of  the  trees  that  overhung  them.  I  admired 
no  less  the  contrast  between  this  soft  scene  and  the 
steep,  craggy  hills  that  overlooked  it,  clothed  with 


36  WILL  I  AM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

their  many-colored  forests.  I  had  never  before 
seen  the  southern  part  of  Berkshire,  and  congratu 
lated  myself  on  becoming  an  inhabitant  of  so  pic 
turesque  a  region." 

It  is  too  characteristic  of  Bryant  to  escape  no 
tice,  that  the  things  which  absorbed  his  attention 
and  commended  this  new  home  to  his  affections  were 
the  smooth  green  meadow,  the  gently  flowing  wa 
ters  of  the  Housatonic  ;  the  craggy  hills,  the  many- 
colored  forests,  while  not  a  thought  is  given  appar 
ently  to  the  indications  of  social,  industrial,  and 
commercial  activities  of  the  country  around  him, 
out  of  which  as  a  lawyer  he  might  hope  to  get 
a  livelihood.  His  eye  was  more  intent  upon  the 
material  his  new  home  would  afford  him  for  mak 
ing  verses  than  for  making  briefs. 

Before  the  first  year  of  his  partnership  had  rolled 
around  he  purchased  his  partner  s  interest  "  for  a 
mere  trifle,"  and  from  that  time  until  his  retire 
ment  from  the  profession  prosecuted  it  alone. 

Though  now  as  comfortably  established  as  the 
average  country  lawyer,  Bryant  did  not  "  accept  the 
situation  "  cheerfully.  Writing  to  his  old  teacher 
and  friend,  Mr.  Baylies,  he  says  :  — 

"  You  ask  whether  I  am  pleased  with  my  pro 
fession.  Alas,  sir,  the  muse  was  my  first  love, 
and  the  remains  of  that  passion  which  is  not  cooled 
out  nor  chilled  into  extinction  will  always,  I  fear, 
cause  me  to  look  coldly  on  the  severe  beauties  of 
Themis.  Yet  I  tame  myself  to  its  labors  as  well 
as  I  can,  and  have  endeavored  to  discharge  with 


THE  BARRISTER.  37 

punctuality  and  attention  such  of  the  duties  of  my 
profession  as  I  am  capable  of  performing." 

While  he  had  a  partner  the  trial  and  argument 
of  causes  fell  mostly  to  him,  but  when  they  sepa 
rated  he  had  to  resume  the  duties  of  the  barrister. 
Speaking  of  this  change  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Baylies  : 

"  I  am  trying  my  hand  at  it  again.  .  .  .  Upon 
the  whole  I  have  every  cause  to  be  satisfied  with 
my  situation.  Place  a  man  where  you  will,  it  is  an 
easy  thing  for  him  to  dream  out  a  more  eligible 
mode  of  life  than  the  one  which  falls  to  his  lot. 
While  I  have  too  much  of  the  mauvaise  honte  to 
seek  opportunities  of  this  nature,  I  have  whipped 
myself  up  to  a  desperate  determination  not  to  avoid 
them." 

There  is  something  in  the  tone  of  this  letter  which 
sho\vs  that  the  dove  from  young  Bryant's  ark  had 
not  yet  found  its  resting-place.  Audax  paupertas 
was  doing,  but  had  not  yet  done  for  him  its  perfect 
work.  It  had  effectively  thus  far  prevented  his 
becoming  content  with  the  opportunities  and  alli 
ances  then  within  his  reach.  It  was  still  his  best 
friend.  It  had  better  work  and  on  a  larger  the 
atre  in  reserve  for  him  than  the  invisa  nego- 
tia  of  settling  the  disputes  of  country  villagers. 
The  Fates  were  spinning  for  him  the  thread  out  of 
which  quite  a  different  destiny  was  to  be  woven 
than  was  yet  in  sight.1 

1  In  a  lengthy  notice  of  Bryant  which  appeared  in  the  Berk 
shire  Eagle  shortly  after  his  death,  June  20,  1878,  some  facts 
relating-  to  his  professional  career  are  given  which  seem  too  char- 


38  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

In  June  of  1817  Bryant  received  a  letter  from 
his  father,  then  in  Boston,  informing  him  that  Mr. 
Willard  Phillips,  an  old  Hampshire  friend,  had  in- 

acteristic  to  be  overlooked  in  any  sketch  of  the  events  which 
shaped  the  ends  of  the  maturing'  poet  and  journalist. 

' '  In  the  old  times  there  were  three  grades  of  lawyers  in  Massa 
chusetts  :  Attorneys  of  the  Common  Pleas,  entitled  to  practice 
in  that  court,  Attorneys  of  the  Supreme  Court,  entitled  to  man 
age  cases  in  that  tribunal,  and  Counselors  of  the  Supreme  Court, 
who  alone  had  the  right  to  argue  cases  before  the  full  bench. 
Mr.  Bryant's  admission  at  Plymouth  was  to  the  Common  Pleas: 
at  the  September  term,  1817,  he  was  admitted  an  attorney  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  and  at  the  same  term  in  1819  as  counselor  ;  Cal 
vin  Martin,  Esq.,  of  this  town,  and  Charles  A.,  afterwards  Judge, 
Dewey,  taking  these  legal  degrees  at  the  same  time.  Mr.  Bry 
ant  was  an  active,  learned,  and  rather  fiery  young  lawyer.  His 
name  appears  four  or  five  times  in  the  reports  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  which  would  indicate  a  practice  somewhat  greater  than 
the  majority  of  lawyers  obtained  in  those  days  at  his  age.  He 
was  not  particularly  distinguished  as  a  lawyer,  but  might  have 
become  so  could  he  have  overcome  his  disgust  with  a  profession 
in  which  —  then,  even  more  than  at  present  —  law  was  not 
synonymous  with  justice.  Finally  he  struck  upon  an  experience 
which,  if  the  well  supported  tradition  of  the  bar  is  to  be  trusted, 
was  so  intolerable  that  he  relinquished  practice  altogether.  The 
case,  that  of  Grotius  Bloss  vs.  Augustus  Tobey,  of  Alford,  is  re 
ported  in  the  second  volume  of  Massachusetts  Reports. 

"  Mr.  Bryant  had  obtained  for  Bloss  a  verdict  of  $500  for  slander 
by  Tobey,  who  appealed,  having  E.  H.  Mills,  General  Whiting, 
and  Henry  W.  Dwight  as  counsel.  At  the  law  term  of  the  Su 
preme  Court,  in  1824, — Mr.  Bryant  having  submitted  a  plain, 
common-sense  argument  in  writing  during  the  vacation,  —  the 
case  was  decided  against  him,  by  an  opinion  which  is  thus  sum 
marized  in  the  Reports : 

"  'Simply  to  burn  one's  store  is  not  unlawful,  and  the  words, 
" He  burnt  his  store"  or  "there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  he 
burned  his  own  store,  he  would  not  have  got  his  goods  insured  if  he 
had  not  meant  to  burn  it,"  or  a  general  allegation  that  the  defend 
ant  charged  the  plaintiff  with  having1  willfully  and  maliciously 


THE  BARRISTER.  39 

timated  to  him  a  desire  that  William  Cullen  would 
contribute  to  the  "  North  American  Review,"  then 
only  two  years  old,  of  which  Phillips  was  an  asso 
ciate  editor.  In  communicating  this  invitation  to 
his  son,  the  doctor  advised  him  to  avail  himself  of 
it  as  a  means  of  making  himself  favorably  known 
at  the  state  capital,  "  for  those  who  contribute," 
he  added,  "  are  generally  known  to  the  literati  in 
and  about  Boston."  While  William  Cullen  had 
Mr.  Phillips's  request  under  consideration  his  de 
cision  was  curiously  anticipated.  Doctor  Bryant 
having  occasion  one  day  to  look  through  the  draw 
ers  in  his  son's  desk,  which  he  had  left  behind  him 
at  Cummington,  his  eyes  fell  upon  some  manuscript 
verses,  one  of  which  proved  to  be  the  poem  to 

burnt  his  own  store,  will  not  sustain  an  action  for  slander  without 
a  colloquium  or  averment  setting  forth  such  circumstances  as  would 
render  such  burning  unlawful,  and  that  the  words  were  spoken 
of  such  circumstances;  and  the  want  of  such  colloquium  will 
not  be  cured  by  an  innuendo.' 

"  Thus,  for  a  technical  omission  which  did  not  in  the  least  obscure 
the  meaning  of  Mr.  Bryant's  declaration,  his  client's  just  rights 
•were  denied.  That  his  claim  to  damage  was  just  the  court  ad 
mitted  practically,  Chief  Justice  Parsons  prefacing  its  opinion,  by 
remarking :  '  It  is  with  great  regret,  and  not  without  much  labor 
and  research,  to  avoid  this  result,  that  we  are  obliged  to  arrest 
judgment.' 

"  I\lr.  Bryant's  just  indignation  against  an  administration  of  the 
law  which  compelled  its  servants  to  do  acknowledged  wrong  to 
those  who  sought  justice  in  its  highest  state  tribunal  led  him  to 
be  ready  to  relinquish  his  profession  at  the  first  opportunity ;  his 
feeling  being  probably  intensified  by  an  angry  quarrel  with  Gen 
eral  Whiting  concerning  the  costs,  in  which  the  disputants  be 
came  so  heated  that  it  is  remembered  to  this  day  by  those  who 
witnessed  it. 


40  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

which  he  had  given  the  name  of  "  Thanatopsis  "  (a 
View  of  Death),  and  the  other  "  An  Inscription 
upon  the  Entrance  to  a  Wood."  He  read  them,  and 
was  so  impressed  by  them  that  he  hurried  off  at 
once  to  the  house  of  a  lady  friend  residing  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  thrusting  the  verses  into  her 
hand  exclaimed,  while  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks, 
"  Read  them,  they  are  Cullen's." 

Without  communicating  his  intention  to  his  son, 
the  good  doctor  with  as  little  delay  as  possible  set 
out  for  Boston  with  these  poems  to  show  them  to 
his  friend  Phillips.  The  result  of  his  visit  has 
already  been  recited. 

"  Thanatopsis  "  appeared  in  the  September  num 
ber  of  the  "North  American  Review"  for  1817. 
It  was  written  by  Bryant,  Mr.  Godwin  tells  us, 

"  shortly  after  he  was  withdrawn  from  college,  while  re 
siding  with  his  parents  at  Cummington  in  the  summer  of 
1811,  and  before  he  had  attained  his  eighteenth  year. 

"  There  was  no  mistaking  the  quality  of  these  verses. 
The  stamp  of  genius  was  upon  every  line.  No  such 
verses  had  been  made  in  America  before.  They  soon 
found  their  way  into  the  school  books  of  the  country. 
They  were  quoted  from  the  pulpit  and  upon  the  hustings. 
Their  gifted  author  had  a  national  fame  before  he  had 
a  vote,  and  in  due  time  '  Thanatopsis  '  took  the  place 
which  it  still  retains  among  the  masterpieces  of  English 
didactic  poetry." 

The  poem  which  accompanied  "  Thanatopsis " 
and  appeared  in  the  same  number  of  the  "  Review  " 
under  the  title  of  "  Fragment "  is  now  known  as 


THE  BARRISTER.  41 

"An  Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to  a  Wood."1 
Though  not  sufficient,  perhaps,  to  confer  a  rep 
utation,  it  contributed  largely  to  confirm  and 
strengthen  one  already  made.  With  two  such 
poems  as  "  Thanatopsis  "  and  "  The  Fragment  " 
sleeping  in  his  desk,  it  may  be  assumed  that  dur 
ing  the  six  succeeding  years,  in  which  we  have 
followed  the  young  poet  in  his  efforts  to  solve  the 
more  practical  problems  of  life,  he  had  not  left  his 
poetical  talent  wrapped  in  a  napkin.  On  the  con 
trary,  his  muse  was  his  comforter,  counselor,  and 
friend,  with  whom  he  uniformly  took  refuge  from 
the  perplexities,  doubts,  and  discouragements  of  his 
professional  life.  She  always  sent  him  back  to  his 
daily  task  resigned,  if  not  contented.  The  tone  of 
his  life  at  this  period  is  reflected  as  in  a  mirror 
from  his  verses.  The  closing  passage  of  his  poem 
on  "  Green  River  "  no  doubt  presents  the  state  of 
feelings  which  was  habitual  with  him,  while,  like 
Samson  grinding  in  the  prison  house  of  the  Phil 
istines,  he  felt  himself  inexorably  condemned  for 
life  to  obscurity  and  "  low  thoughted  care." 

"  Though  forced  to  drudge  for  the  dregs  of  men, 
And  scrawl  strange  words  with  the  barbarous  pen, 
And  mingle  among  the  jostling  crowd 
Where  the  sons  of  strife  are  subtle  and  loud, 
I  often  come  to  this  quiet  place 
To  breathe  the  airs  that  ruffle  my  face, 
And  gaze  upon  thee  in  silent  dream ; 
For  in  thy  lonely  and  lovely  stream 
An  image  of  that  calm  life  appears 
That  won  my  heart  in  my  greener  years." 

1  The  first  title  was  doubtless  given  it  by  the  editors,  the  latter 
was  subsequently  given  it  by  its  author. 


42  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

When  he  journeyed  on  foot  over  the  hills  to 
Plainfield  on  the  15th  of  December,  1816,  to  see 
what  inducements  it  offered  him  to  commence  there 
the  practice  of  the  profession  to  which  he  had  just 
been  licensed,  he  says  in  one  of  his  letters  that  he 
felt  "  very  forlorn  and  desolate."  The  world  seemed 
to  grow  bigger  and  darker  as  he  ascended,  and 
his  future  more  uncertain  and  desperate.  The  sun 
had  already  set,  leaving  behind  it  one  of  those 
brilliant  seas  of  chrysolite  and  opal  which  often 
flood  the  New  England  skies,  and,  while  pausing  to 
contemplate  the  rosy  splendor,  with  rapt  admira 
tion,  a  solitary  bird  made  its  winged  way  along 
the  illuminated  horizon.  He  watched  the  lone  wan 
derer  until  it  was  lost  in  the  distance.  He  then 
went  on  with  new  strength  and  courage.  When 
he  reached  the  house  where  he  was  to  stop  for 
the  night  he  immediately  sat  down  and  wrote  the 
lines  "  To  a  Waterfowl,"  the  concluding  verse  of 
which  will  perpetuate  to  future  ages  the  lesson  in 
faith  which  the  scene  had  impressed  upon  him. 

"  He  who,  from  zone  to  zone, 

Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long1  way  that  I  must  tiead  alone, 
Will  lead  my  steps  aright."  1 

Bryant  was  only  twenty-one  years  of  age  when  he 
wrote  this  poem,  which  by  many  is  thought  to  be 
the  one  they  would  choose  to  preserve,  if  all  but 
one  of  his  poems  were  condemned  to  destruction.2 

1  Godwin's  Life  of  Bryant,  vol.  i.  p.  144. 

2  I  have  from  Mr.  Parke  Godwin  an  incident  which  belongs  to 


THE  BARRISTER.  43 

There  is  something  strangely  pathetic  in  the  fol 
lowing  lines  written  in  1815,  and  while  still  a 
student  at  home. 

"  I  cannot  forget  with  what  tender  devotion 
I  worshiped  the  visions  of  verse  and  of  fame  ; 
Each  gaze  at  the  glories  of  earth,  sky,  and  ocean, 
To  my  kindled  emotions  was  wind  over  flame. 

"  And  deep  were  my  musings  in  life's  early  blossom, 
Mid  the  twilight  of  mountain  groves  wandering  long, 
How  thrilled  my  young  veins,  and  how  throbbed  my  full  bosom, 
When  o'er  me  descended  the  Spirit  of  Song. 

*'  Bright  Visions !     I  mixed  with  the  world  and  ye  faded. 
No  longer  your  pure  rural  worshiper  now ; 
In  the  haunts  your  continued  presence  pervaded 
Ye  shrink  from  the  signet  of  care  on  my  brow. 

the  history  of  this  poem.     In  a  note  to  me  dated  Roslyn,  Novem 
ber  6,  1889,  he  says  :  — 

"  Once  when  the  late  Matthew  Arnold,  with  his  family,  was 
visiting  the  ever-hospitable  country  home  of  Mr.  Charles  But 
ler,  I  happened  to  spend  an  evening  there.  In  the  course  of  it 
Mr.  Arnold  took  up  a  volume  of  Mr.  Bryant's  poems  from  the 
table,  and  turning  to  me  said,  '  This  is  the  American  poet,  fa 
cile  princeps ; '  and  after  a  pause  he  continued :  '  When  I  first 
heard  of  him,  Hartley  Coleridge  (we  were  both  lads  then)  came 
into  my  father's  house  one  afternoon  considerably  excited  and 
exclaimed,  ' '  Matt,  do  you  want  to  hear  the  best  short  poem  in 
the  English  language  ?  "  "Faith,  Hartley,  I  do,"  was  my  reply. 
He  then  read  a  poem  "To  a  Waterfowl"  in  his  best  manner. 
And  he  was  a  good  reader.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  he  asked, 
11  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  "I  am  not  sure  but  you  are  right, 
Hartley;  is  that  your  father's  ?  "  was  my  reply.  "  No,"  he  re 
joined,  "  father  has  written  nothing  like  that."  Some  days  after 
he  might  be  heard  muttering  to  himself, 

"  '  "  The  desert  and  illimitable  air, 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost."  '  " 


44  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

"  In  the  old  mossy  groves  on  the  breast  of  the  mountains, 
In  deep  lonely  glens  where  the  waters  complain, 
By  the  shade  of  the  rock,  by  the  gush  of  the  fountain, 
I  seek  your  loved  footsteps,  but  seek  them  in  vain. 

"  Oh  leave  not  forlorn  and  forever  forsaken 
Your  pupil  and  victim,  to  life  and  its  tears ; 
But  sometimes  return,  and  in  mercy  awaken 
The  glories  ye  showed  to  his  earlier  years." 

It  is  by  no  means  the  least  singular  thing  about 
all  these  exquisite  verses  that  they  should  have 
slept  several  years  in  their  author's  portfolio, 
neither  read,  seen,  nor  even  heard  of  by  any  other 
living  soul.  His  early  "  prentice  "  verses  he  was 
wont  to  read  to  his  father  and  to  other  members  of 
the  family,  but  when  "  the  Spirit  of  Song  "  de 
scended  upon  him  he  became  as  shy  as  a  maiden 
who  first  feels,  not  yet  comprehending,  the  myste 
ries  of  love.  He  no  longer  showed  his  verses  even 
to  his  father,  and  but  for  the  accident  that  be 
trayed  his  secret  no  one  can  confidently  say  when, 
if  ever,  any  of  those  verses  would  have  seen  the 
light.  "  Thanatopsis  "  was  already  six  years  old 
when  it  was  printed  ;  "The  Fragment,"  two  years; 
"To  a  Waterfowl,"  three  years;  and  "I  cannot  for 
get  with  what  fervid  devotion,"  eleven  years. 

Such  "  patient  waiting  "  is  very  rare,  with  young 
writers  at  least,  but  Bryant  even  then  had  no  am 
bition  to  be  a  mere  newspaper  poet.  Whatever 
may  have  been  his  own  estimate  of  his  verses,  he 
knew  that  time  could  not  deprive  them  of  any  of 
their  value.  Whether  they  were  vein  ore  or  only 
washings  he  evidently  had  not  fully  settled  in  his 


THE  BARRISTER.  45 

own  mind  when  his  father  took  some  specimens 
to  Boston  to  be  subjected  to  the  assay  of  public 
opinion. 

The  reception  of  "  Thanatopsis "  in  1817  and 
of  "  To  a  Waterfowl  "  in  1818  removed  whatever 
doubts  lingered  in  his  own  or  the  public  mind  in 
regard  either  to  the  dignity  or  fertility  of  his  muse, 
one  of  the  immediate  fruits  of  which  was  an  invi 
tation  from  Mr.  Phillips  l  to  enlist  among  the  reg 
ular  contributors  to  the  "  Review,"  —  an  invitation 
of  which  he  was  only  too  happy  to  avail  himself, 
for  to  his  provincial  vision  it  seemed  the  only  gate 
through  which  he  might  at  last  find  his  way  to 
that  great  world  of  which,  like  Rasselas,  he  had 
dreamed  so  much,  but  knew  so  little. 

A  collection  of  American  poetry  by  Solyman 
Browne  was  suggested  to  him  for  review.  After 
much  difficulty  in  finding  a  copy  of  this  long  for- 

1  In  a  letter  to  Dana  from  Cummington,  in  September,  1873, 
Bryant  wrote :  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  telling1  me  so  much  about  the  last  days  of  our 
friend  Phillips.  He  lived  when  a  lad  and  a  youth  for  some  time 
in  a  house  which  I  see  from  my  door  here,  on  a  somewhat  distant 
hillside,  and  while  studying-  for  college  came  to  this  house  to  take 
lessons  from  one  of  my  father's  medical  pupils.  The  publication 
of  the  poems  which  you  mention,  through  his  agency,  was  prop 
erly  my  introduction  to  the  literary  world,  and  led  to  my  coming- 
out  with  a  little  volume  which  you  and  Channing-  and  he  encour 
aged  me  to  publish,  and  which  he  so  kindly  reviewed  in  the 
North  American.  To  me  he  was  particularly  kind  —  uncon 
sciously  so  as  it  seemed  ;  it  was  apparently  a  kindness  that  he 
could  not  help.  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  his  last  years  were  so 
tranquil  and  his  death  so  easy,  dropping  like  fruit,  as  Milton  says, 
into  his  mother's  lap." 


46  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

gotten  book,  which  in  a  letter  to  his  father  he  de 
scribed  as  "  poor  stuff,"  he  made  it  the  basis  of  an 
essay  on  American  poetry.  It  appeared  in  the 
"  North  American  Review  "  for  July,  1818.  In 
it  he  passes  in  review  all  the  writers  of  verse  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic  who  had  yet  ventured 
into  print,  save  some  "  whose  passage  to  that  obliv 
ion,  towards  which,  to  the  honor  of  our  country 
they  were  hastening,"  he  did  not  wish  to  interrupt. 
Those  whose  passage  to  oblivion  he  thought  worthy 
of  being  interrupted,  though  at  this  day  it  is  not  so 
easy  to  see  why,  were  the  Rev.  John  Adams,  whose 
verses  showed  "  the  dawning  of  an  ambition  of 
correctness  and  elegance ;  "  Joseph  Green,  whose 
poetical  writings  "  have  been  admired  for  their 
humor  and  the  playful  ease  of  their  composition ;  " 
Francis  Hopkinson,  "  whose  humorous  ballad  en 
titled  '  The  Battle  of  the  Kegs  '  is  in  most  of  our 
memories  ;  "  Dr.  Church,  whose  "  keen  and  forcible 
invectives  are  still  recollected  by  his  contempora 
ries  ;  "  Philip  Freneau,  "  whose  occasional  produc 
tions,  distinguished  by  a  coarse  strength  of  sarcasm 
and  abounding  with  allusions  to  passing  events, 
which  are  perhaps  their  greatest  merit ; "  the 
Connecticut  poets,  Trumbull,  Dwight,  Barlow, 
Humphreys,  and  Hopkins,  in  all  whose  productions 
"  there  is  a  pervading  spirit  of  nationality  and  pa 
triotism  :  a  desire  to  reflect  credit  on  the  country 
to  which  they  belonged,  which  seems,  as  much 
as  individual  ambition,  to  have  prompted  their 
efforts,  and  which  at  times  gives  a  certain  glow 


THE  BARRISTER.  47 

and  interest  to  their  manner."  Trumbull's  Mc- 
Fingal  is  "  a  tolerably  successful  imitation  of  the  ' 
great  work  of  Butler,"  though  the  reviewer  thinks 
"  The  Progress  of  Dullness  "  the  more  pleasing 
poem.  He  asks  to  be  excused  from  feeling  any  high 
admiration  for  the  poetry  of  Dr.  Dwight,  which  is 
"  modeled  upon  a  manner  altogether  too  artificial 
and  mechanical."  "  Barlow's  '  Hasty  Pudding '  is 
a  good  specimen  of  mock  heroic  verse."  "The  plan 
of  4  The  Columbiad '  is  utterly  destitute  of  in 
terest,  and  that  which  was  at  first  sufficiently 
wearisome  has  become  doubly  so  by  being  drawn 
out  to  its  length."  Humphreys's  poems  are  in 
better  taste  than  those  of  Barlow  and  Dwiffht,  but 

O         " 

"  most  happy  when  he  aims  at  nothing  beyond 
an  elegant  mediocrity."  "  Dr.  Lemuel  Hopkins's 
smaller  poems  have  been  praised  for  their  wit. 
There  is  a  coarseness,  a  want  of  polish  in  his  style  ; 
and  his  imagination,  daring  and  original  but  unre 
strained  by  a  correct  judgment,  often  wanders  into 
absurdities  and  extravagances.  Still  if  he  had  all 
the  madness,  he  must  be  allowed  to  have  possessed 
some  of  the  inspiration  of  poetry." 

There  is  none  of  our  American  poetry  on  which 
the  reviewer  dwells  with  more  pleasure  than  the 
charming  remains  of  William  Clifton,  who  died  at 
the  early  age  of  twenty-seven.  "  His  diction  is  re 
fined  to  an  unusual  degree  of  purity,  and  through 
this  lucid  medium  the  creations  of  his  elegant  fancy 
appear  with  nothing  to  obscure  their  loveliness." 


48  WILLIAM    CULL  EX  BRYANT. 

The  posthumous  works  of  St.  John  Honeywood 
"  contain  many  polished  and  nervous  lines."  Rob- 
ert  Treat  Paine  "  must  be  allowed  to  have  possessed 
an  active  and  fertile  fancy.  Yet  more  instances 
of  the  false  sublime  might,  perhaps,  be  selected 
from  the  writings  of  this  poet  than  from  those  of 
any  other  of  equal  talents  who  lived  in  the  same 
period.  The  brilliancy  of  Paine's  poetry  is  like 
the  brilliancy  of  frostwork,  cold  and  fantastic. 
Who  can  point  out  the  passage  in  his  works  in 
which  he  speaks  to  the  heart  in  its  own  language  ? 
He  was  a  fine  but  misguided  genius." 

After  this  charitable  not  to  say  generous  esti 
mate  of  his  brother  bards  in  America,  he  proceeds 
to  denounce  "  the  style  of  poetry  then  prevalent, 
as  in  too  many  instances  tinged  with  a  sickly  and 
affected  imitation  of  the  peculiar  manner  of  the 
late  popular  poets  of  England,"  and  the  servile 
habit  of  copying,  which  adopts  the  vocabulary 
of  some  favorite  author,  and  apes  the  fashion  of 
his  sentences,  and  cramps  and  forces  the  ideas  into 
a  shape  which  they  could  not  naturally  have  taken, 
and  of  which  the  only  recommendation  is  not  that 
it  is  most  elegant  or  most  striking,  but  that  it 
bears  some  resemblance  to  the  manner  of  him  who 
is  proposed  as  a  model.  "  This  way  of  writing," 
he  continues,  "  has  an  air  of  poverty  and  meanness. 
It  seems  to  indicate  a  paucity  of  reading  as  well  as 
a  perversion  of  taste,  and  it  ever  has  been  and 
ever  will  be  the  resort  of  those  who  are  sensible 


THE  BARRISTER.  49 

that  their  works  need  some  factitious  recommenda 
tion  to  give  them  even  a  temporary  popularity." 
41  On  the  whole,"  he  concludes,  "there  seems  to  be 
more  good  taste  among  those  who  read  than  among 
those  who  write  poetry  in  our  country." 

I  have  dwelt  upon  this  paper  longer  than  the 
present  interest  of  the  theme  might  seem  to  war 
rant  because  it  exhibits  many  of  the  moral  and  in 
tellectual  habits  which  made  its  author  for  more 
than  half  a  century  the  most  conspicuous  man  of 
letters  in  the  country,  among  which  were  a  mastery 
of  his  subject,  temperance  in  judgment,  moderation 
in  statement,  a  patriotic  interest  in  the  adoption 
of  sound  standards  of  poetical  merit,  and  withal  a 
profound  sense  of  responsibility  for  what  he  ven 
tured  to  put  in  print. 

It  is  not  much  to  say  that  no  one  now  questions 
the  substantial  correctness  of  the  opinions  so  mod 
estly  set  forth  in  this  paper.  It  is  much,  however, 
to  say  that  no  one  had  ventured  to  make  himself 
responsible  to  the  public  for  these  opinions  before. 
The  editors  of  the  "  Review  "  highly  approved  of 
the  tone  of  the  article,  and  so  encouraged  him  by 
their  epistolary  commendations  that  he  now  allowed 
himself  to  be  relied  upon  as  one  of  their  favorite 
contributors. 

Nor  does  his  professional  character  seem  to 
have  suffered  in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow-citizens  by 
these  infidelities,  for  only  a  few  months  after 
"  To  a  Waterfowl  "  and  the  paper  on  early  Amer 
ican  poetry  appeared  in  the  "North  American 


50  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Review,"  he  was  chosen  one  of  the  tithing-men 
of  the  town1  and  soon  afterwards  town  clerk.2 
He  held  this  office  for  five  years,  and  until  he  left 
Great  Barrington.  If  his  duties  bore  any  propor 
tion  to  his  salary,  they  could  not  have  been  very 
engrossing,  for  he  discharged  them  all  for  the  sum 
of  just  five  dollars  per  annum. 

To  these  civic  dignities  the  Governor  of  the 
State  also  added  that  of  Justice  of  the  Peace. 

Though  few  men  who  wrote  so  well  have  ever 
written  so  much  on  the  political  problems  of  his 
time  as  Mr.  Bryant,  or  did  more  by  his  professional 
and  personal  example  to  give  dignity  to  political 
strife,  these  were  the  only  public  offices  he  ever 
filled.  He  had  his  eyes  already  fixed  upon  a 
crown  even  then  slowly  settling  upon  his  head,  to 
which  official  distinctions  could  add  no  lustre. 

About  this  time  Bryant  was  called  upon  to  sub 
mit  to  the  greatest  trial  that  had  ever  yet  befallen 
him,  in  the  death  of  his  father,3  who  had  been  to 
him  from  his  earliest  youth,  in  the  largest  accepta- 

1  March  9,  1819. 

2  "One  may  still  see  his  records  at  Great  Barring-ton,  where 
they  form  an  object  of  considerable  curiosity  to  summer  visitors. 
Written  in  a  neat  flexible  hand,  it  is  remarked  that  almost  the 
only  blot  is  where  he  registered  his  own  marriage,  and  the  only 
interlineation,  where  in  giving  the  birth  of  his  first  child  he  had 
left  out  the  name  of  the  mother."  —  Godwin's  Life,  i.  159. 

3  Dr.  Bryant  died  on  the  20th  of  March,  1820,  at  the  compara 
tively  early  age  of  fifty-three.     He  inherited  weak  lungs,  which 
could  not  endure  any  longer  the  wear  and  tear  of  a  country  phy 
sician's  life  in  the  bleak  and  hilly  region  where  Providence  had 
fixed  his  home. 


THE  BARRISTER.  51 

tion  of  the  words,  his  counselor  and  friend.  For 
this  loss,  however,  Providence  sent  him  what  was 
destined  to  constitute  as  far  as  possible  a  compen 
sation.  Soon  after  his  settlement  in  Great  Bar- 
rington,  he  met  a  Miss  Fairchild,  who  chanced  to 
be  visiting  in  the  neighborhood.  She  left  upon 
his  heart  at  once  an  impression  that  proved  to  be 
durable.  Death  had  recently  deprived  her  of  both 
her  parents,  and  she  was  at  this  time  the  guest  of 
one  of  her  married  sisters.  She  proved  during 
the  period  of  their  courtship  the  inspiration  of  a 
good  many  poems,  of  which  "  Oh !  fairest  of  the 
rural  maids  "  is  the  only  one  which  for  one  reason 
or  another  the  author  has  cared  to  print.  They 
were  married  on  the  llth  of  June,  1821,  at  the 
residence  of  Mrs.  Henderson,  the  bride's  sister. 
In  announcing  this  event  to  his  mother,  he  wrote : 
"  I  have  not  *  played  the  fool  and  married  the 
Ethiop  for  the  jewel  in  her  ear.'  I  looked  only 
for  goodness  of  heart,  an  ingenuous  and  affec 
tionate  disposition,  a  good  understanding,  etc.,  and 
the  character  of  my  wife  is  too  frank  and  single- 
hearted  to  suffer  me  to  fear  that  I  may  be  disap 
pointed.  I  do  myself  wrong.  I  did  not  look  for 
these  nor  any  other  qualities,  but  they  trapped  me 
before  I  was  aware,  and  now  I  am  married  in  spite 
of  myself." l 

1  The  following  prayer,  prepared  for  this  occasion,  was  happily 
found  among  Bryant's  papers.  Why  their  union  was  so  remark 
ably  blessed  finds  in  it  at  least  a  partial  explanation  :  — 

"May  Almighty  God  mercifully  take  care  of   our  happiness 


52  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

In  the  following  year,  Bryant  accepted  an  invi 
tation  to  deliver  the  usual  poetic  address  before 
the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Harvard  College. 
It  was  for  this  occasion  he  wrote  the  poem  of  "  The 
Ages,"  which  was  not  only  a  very  remarkable 
poem  to  be  written  by  any  young  man  of  twenty- 
eight  years,  but  which  was  conceded  by  those  who 
heard  it  to  be  "  the  finest  that  had  ever  been  spoken 
before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society."  So  highly 
was  it  esteemed  that  nothing  would  do  but  he 
must  consent  to  its  publication,  with  whatever  else 
he  had  done  in  a  poetical  way.  The  result  was  a 
volumette  of  forty-four  pages,  containing  "  The 
Ages,"  "To  a  Waterfowl,"  "Fragment  from  Si- 
monides,"  "  The  Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to  a 
Wood,"  "The  Yellow  Violet,"  "The  Song,"  "Green 
River,"  and  "  Thanatopsis."  These  eight  poems 

here  and  hereafter.  May  we  ever  continue  constant  to  each 
other,  mindful  of  our  mutual  promises  of  attachment  and  troth. 
In  due  time,  if  it  be  the  will  of  Providence,  may  we  become  more 
nearly  connected  with  each  other,  and  together  may  we  lead  a 
long1,  happy,  and  innocent  life,  without  any  diminution  of  affection 
till  we  die.  May  there  never  be  any  jealousy,  distrust,  coldness, 
or  dissatisfaction  between  us,  nor  occasion  for  any,  nothing  but 
kindness,  forbearance,  mutual  confidence,  and  attention  to  each 
other's  happiness.  And  that  we  may  be  less  unworthy  of  so 
great  a  blessing,  may  we  be  assisted  to  cultivate  all  the  benign 
and  charitable  affections  and  offices  not  only  toward  each  other, 
but  toward  our  neighbors,  the  human  race,  and  all  the  creatures 
of  God.  And  in  all  things  wherein  we  have  done  ill,  may  we 
properly  repent  our  error,  and  may  God  forgive  us  and  dispose  us 
to  do  better.  When  at  last  we  are  called  to  render  back  the  life 
we  have  received,  may  our  deaths  be  peaceful,  and  may  God  take 
us  to  his  bosom. 

"  All  which  may  He  grant  for  the  sake  of  the  Messiah." 


THE  BARRISTER.  53 

furnished  forth  the  first  "collection"  of  Bryant's 
poems,  and  though  the  volume  was  small  and  the 
poems  few  in  number,  they  were  enough,  had  he 
never  written  another  line,  to  secure  for  him  a 
permanent  place  among  the  poets  of  America. 

His  visit  to  Boston  and  Cambridge  did  not 
contribute  much  to  make  Bryant  and  his  profes 
sion  more  cordial  friends.  He  had  been  suddenly 
thrown  into  a  society  of  the  most  distinguished 
and  cultivated  people  of  the  period,  —  a  society 
which  conceded  to  him  a  reputation  which  required 
him  to  call  none  of  them  "master."  Nor  was 
there  any  one  at  that  already  famous  literary  cen 
tre  so  distinguished  that  he  could  afford  to  be  in 
different  to  the  young  poet's  acquaintance.  The 
law  had  yielded  him  no  such  rewards.  He  was 
doubtless  right  in  thinking  it  had  none  such  in 
store  for  him.  At  all  events,  he  acted  upon  that 
conviction. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   ADVENTURER. 

1823-1829. 

SOON  after  his  father's  death,  an  appeal  was 
made  to  Bryant  on  behalf  of  the  Unitarian  So 
ciety  of  Massachusetts  through  Miss  Catherine  M. 
Sedgwick,  of  Stockbridge,  to  whom  he  was  only 
known  by  reputation,  to  contribute  to  a  collection 
of  hymns  that  society  had  projected.  Miss  Sedg 
wick,  in  giving  an  account  of  her  mission  to  her 
brother  Robert  in  New  York,  said,  "  Pie  has  a 
charming  countenance,  modest,  but  not  bashful 
manners.  I  made  him  promise  to  come  and  see 
us  shortly.  He  seemed  gratified ;  and  if  Mr.  Sew- 
all  has  reason  to  be  obliged  to  me  (which  I  cer 
tainly  think  he  has),  I  am  doubly  obliged  by  the 
opportunity  of  securing  the  acquaintance  of  so  in 
teresting  a  man." 

The  acquaintance  thus  casually  formed  was  des 
tined  to  exercise  a  curious  influence  upon  Bryant's 
future  career.  At  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  Great 
Barrington,  he  tells  us  in  his  Memoirs,  "  I  had 
no  acquaintance  with  the  Sedgwick  family.  The 
youngest  of  them,  Charles  Sedgwick,  a  man  of 


THE  ADVENTURER.  55 

most  genial  and  engaging  manners  and  agreeable 
conversation  as  well  as  of  great  benevolence  and 
worth,  was  a  member  of  the  Berkshire  bar,  and 
by  him,  a  year  or  two  afterwards,  I  was  introduced 
to  the  others,  who,  from  the  first,  seemed  to  take 
pleasure  in  being  kind  to  me." 

At  the  instance  of  this  amiable  and  accomplished 
family,  Bryant  was  led  seriously  to  consider  the 
expediency  of  directing  his  steps  toward  New 
York  rather  than  Boston,  as  his  Land  of  Promise. 
Mr.  Henry  Sedgwick,  Miss  Sedgwick's  elder 
brother,  and  one  of  the  more 'prominent  members 
of  the  New  York  bar,  had  been  so  impressed  by 
what  he  had  seen  of  Bryant's  writings  that  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  recommend  him  to  try  his  fortune 
as  a  man  of  letters  in  our  commercial  capital. 
"  The  time,"  he  wrote,  "  is  peculiarly  propitious  ; 
tfee  Athenaeum,  just  instituted,  is  exciting  a  sort  of 
literary  rage,  and  it  is  proposed  to  set  up  a  journal 
in  connection  with  it.  Besides,  'The  Atlantic 
Magazine,'  which  has  pined  till  recently,  is  begin 
ning  to  revive  in  the  hands  of  Henry  J.  Anderson, 
who  has  a  taste  or  whim  for  editorship,  and  he  un 
questionably  needs  assistance.  Bliss  &  White,  his 
publishers,  are  liberal  gentlemen  ;  they  pay  him 
five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  authorize  an  ex 
penditure  of  five  hundred  dollars  more."  "  Any 
deficiencies  of  salary,  moreover,"  Mr.  Sedgwick 
adds,  "  may  be  eked  out  by  teaching  foreigners,  of 
whom  there  are  many  in  New  York,  eager  to  learn 
our  language  and  literature.  In  short,  it  would 


56  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

be  strange  if  you  could  not  succeed  where  every 
body  and  everything  succeeds." 

This  would  scarcely  seem  a  very  tempting  pro 
posal  to  a  young  man  nowadays  to  quit  the  pro 
fession  to  which  he  had  been  trained  and  the  seat 
of  whatever  family  and  personal  influence  he  pos 
sessed  ;  but  Bryant's  aversion  to  the  law  had  in 
creased  as  his  literary  talents  were  more  widely 
recognized,  and  he  readily  persuaded  himself  to 
make  a  prospecting  tour  to  New  York  in  the  spring 
of  1824.  His  reception  was  seductive.  He  notes 
in  his  letters  to  his  wife  that  he  "  dined  at  Robert 
Sedgwick's  in  company  with  Cooper,  the  novelist, 
Halleck,  the  author  of  4  Fanny,'  Sands,  author  of 
4  Yamoyden,'  Johnson,  the  reporter  of  the  Court  of 
Appeals,  and  some  other  literary  gentlemen  ;  "  that 
one  Sunday  he  heard  "  two  sermons  from  Parson 
Ware,  and  very  good  ones,  too,"  and  on  Tuesday 
had  Sparks,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  editorship  of 
the  "  North  American  Review,"  to  dine  with  him. 
The  Sedgwicks  did  all  they  could,  and  that  meant 
a  great  deal,  to  make  New  York  inviting  to  him. 
The  result  of  his  visit  is  easy  to  anticipate.  Though 
upon  his  return  he  did  not  at  once  abandon  his 
profession,  his  mind  had  evidently  received  during 
his  absence  such  impressions  as  were  sure  to  put 
an  end  to  a  prolonged  residence  at  Great  Bar- 
rington.  This  was  apparent  in  the  earnestness 
with  which  he  now  devoted  himself  to  literary 
work.  "  The  United  States  Literary  Gazette  " 
had  been  then  recently  established  in  Boston  under 


THE  ADVENTURER.  57 

the  editorial  management  of  Theophilus  Parsons, 
a  young  lawyer  of  promise,  afterward  eminent  as 
a  writer  and  as  a  jurist.  He  solicited  Bryant's 
aid.  The  application  came  at  a  propitious  moment ; 
and  during  the  first  three  years  of  the  "  Gazette's  " 
existence,  Bryant  contributed  to  its  pages  from 
twenty  to  thirty  poems,  several  of  which  rank 
among  his  best.1  Of  these  pieces  there  was  one 
which  Mr.  Godwin  tells  us  had  a  deep  and  tender 

personal  meaning.     It   is  the  "  Sonnet  to ," 

his  sister,  the  beloved  companion  of  his  earlier 
years,  but  then  in  the  last  stages  of  the  disease  of 
which  their  father  had  died  a  few  years  before. 
She  is  remembered  as  a  person  of  rare  endow-  » 
ments  and  of  the  loveliest  disposition.  It  was  but 
natural  he  wrote  that 

"death  should  come 
Gently  to  one  of  gentle  mould  like  thee, 
As  light  winds  wandering  through  groves  of  hloom 
Detach  the  delicate  blossoms  from  the  tree." 

She  died  in  the  twenty-second  year  of  her  age, 
and  thereafter  the  old  familiar  places  wore  a  gloom 
for  him  which,  perhaps,  inclined  him  more  will 
ingly  to  the  change  of  residence  to  which  influ- 

1  These  were  "The  Massacre  of  Scio,"  "Rizpah,"  "The  Rivu 
let,"  "March,"  "The  Old  Man's  Funeral,"  "Sonnet  to ," 

"An  Indian  Story,"  "  Summer  Wind,"  "  An  Indian  at  the  Bur 
ial  Place  of  his  Fathers,"  the  song  called  "  The  Lovers'  Les 
sons,"  '*•  Monument  Mountain,"  the  "Hymn  of  the  Waldenses," 
"After  a  Tempest,"  "Autumn  Woods,"  "  Mutation,"  "  Novem 
ber,"  "Song  of  the  Greek  Amazon,"  "  To  a  Cloud,"  "  The  Mur 
dered  Traveler,"  "  Hymn  to  the  North  Star,"  "  The  Lapse  of 
Time,"  "The  Song  of  the  Stars,"  and  the  "Forest  Hymn." 


58  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

ences  from  every  quarter  seemed  to  be  entreating 
him.  To  this  cherished  companion  of  his  child 
hood  he  erected  one  of  the  noblest  monuments  with 
which  the  memory  of  any  American  has  yet  been 
honored,  in  his  lines  on  "  The  Death  of  the  Flow 
ers."  No  one  is  to  be  envied  who  can  read  the 
closing  stanzas  to-day  without  emotion. 

"  The  melancholy  days  are  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year, 

Of  wailing  winds,  and  naked  woods,  and  meadows  brown  and  sere. 
Heaped  in  the  hollows  of  the  grove,  the  autumn  leaves  lie  dead ; 
They  rustle  to  the  eddying  gust,  and  to  the  rabbit's  tread. 
The  robin  and  the  wren  are  flown,  and  from  the  shrubs  the  jay ; 
And  from  the  wood-tops  calls  the  crow  through  all  the  gloomy 
day. 

"  Where  are  the  flowers,  the  fair  young  flowers,  that  lately  sprang 

and  stood, 

In  brighter  light  and  softer  airs,  a  beauteous  sisterhood  ? 
Alas  !  they  all  are  in  their  graves  ;  the  gentle  race  of  flowers 
Are  lying  in  their  lowly  beds,  with  the  fair  and  good  of  ours. 
The  rain  is  falling  where  they  lie  ;  but  the  cold  November  rain 
Calls  not  from  out  the  gloomy  earth  the  lovely  ones  again. 

"  The  wind-flower  and  the  violet,  they  perished  long  ago; 

And  the  brier-rose  and  the  orchis  died  amid  the  summer  glow ; 
But  on  the  hills  the  golden-rod,  and  the  aster  in  the  wood, 
And  the  yellow  sun-flower  by  the  brook  in  autumn  beauty  stood, 
Till  fell  the  frost  from  the  clear,  cold  heaven,  as  falls  the  plague 

on  men, 
And  the  brightness  of  their  smile  was  gone  from  upland,  glade, 

and  glen. 

"  And  now,  when  comes  the  calm,  mild  day,  as  still  such  days  will 
come,  « 

To  call  the  squirrel  and  the  bee  from  out  their  winter  home  ; 

When  the  sound  of  dropping  nuts  is  heard,  though  all  the  trees 
are  still, 

And  twinkle  in  the  smoky  light  the  waters  of  the  rill,  — 


THE  ADVENTURER.  59 

The  south-wind  searches  for  the  flowers  whose  fragrance  late  he 

bore, 
And  sighs  to  find  them  in  the  wood  and  by  the  stream  no  more. 

"  And  then  I  think  of  one  who  in  her  youthful  beauty  died, 
The  fair,  meek  blossom  that  grew  up  and  faded  by  my  side : 
In  the  cold,  moist  earth  we  laid  her  when  the  forests  cast  the 

leaf, 

And  we  wept  that  one  so  lovely  should  have  a  life  so  brief  ; 
Yet  not  unmeet  it  was  that  one,  like  that  young  friend  of  ours, 
So  gentle  and  so  beautiful,  should  perish  with  the  flowers." 

In  "  The  Past,"  which  at  the  time  it  was  written 
he  was  inclined  to  think  the  best  poem  he  had 
written,  there  occurs  also  a  touching  allusion  to 
both  his  then  recent  bereavements. 

"  All  that  of  good  and  fair 
Has  gone  into  thy  womb  from  earliest  time 

Shall  then  come  forth  to  wear 
The  glory  and  the  beauty  of  its  prime. 

"  They  have  not  perished,  —  no  ! 
Kind  words,  remembered  voices  once  so  sweet, 

Smiles,  radiant  long  ago, 
And  features,  the  great  soul's  apparent  seat. 

' '  All  shall  come  back ;   each  tie 
Of  pure  affection  shall  be  knit  again  ; 

Alone  shall  Evil  die, 
And  Sorrow  dwell  a  prisoner  in  thy  reign. 

"And  then  shall  I  behold 
Him  by  whose  kind  paternal  side  I  sprang, 

And  her  who,  still  and  cold, 
Fills  the  next  grave,  —  the  beautiful,  the  young." 

When  asked  what  compensation  he  expected  for 
these  poems,  Bryant  named  two  dollars  for  each, 
with  which  remuneration  he  was  "  abundantly  sat- 


b'O  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

isfied."  Fifty  years  later,  any  publisher  in  the 
land  would  gladly  have  paid  him  a  hundred  times 
that  sum  for  them,  —  a  pleasing  evidence  of  the 
rapid  growth  both  of  the  literary  taste  and  wealth 
of  the  country.  His  publishers,  with  a  juster 
sense  of  the  value  of  his  contributions  than  his 
modesty  permitted  him  to  entertain,  had  the  grace 
to  offer  him  two  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  an 
average  of  one  hundred  lines  a  month,  with  an  ex 
pression  of  their  "  profound  regret  that  they  were 
unable  to  offer  a  compensation  more  adequate." 
Small  as  this  compensation  seems  to  us,  it  had  its 
influence  in  determining  him  to  take  all  the  risks 
and  to  trust  to  his  pen  for  a  livelihood.  Accord 
ingly  in  January  of  the  year  1825,  he  revisited 
New  York,  where,  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing 
month,  he  undertook  in  connection  with  Henry  J. 
Anderson  the  editorship  of  a  monthly  periodical, 
entitled  the  "  New  York  Review  and  Athenaeum 
Magazine,"  the  first  number  of  which  was  an 
nounced  to  appear  in  June. 

Mr.  Bryant  did  not  abandon  his  profession  — 
if  the  law  can  fairly  be  said  to  have  ever  been  his 
profession  —  hastily  or  inconsiderately  ;  nor  did 
he  trust  himself  to  the  precarious  resources  of  his 
pen  with  any  chimerical  expectations.  No  one 
knew  better  than  he  how  limited  was  the  market 
at  that  time  for  such  literary  work  as  he  was  will 
ing  and  able  to  execute.  He  was  animated  solely 
by  a  desire  to  exchange  an  uncongenial  employ 
ment  for  a  congenial  one.  The  meanest  liveli- 


THE  ADVENTURER.  61 

hood  achieved  by  his  pen  in  the  metropolis  was 
more  agreeable  to  him  than  affluence  as  a  village 
attorney. 

"  I  have  given  up  my  profession,  which  was  a 
shabby  one,"  he  wrote  about  this  time  to  his  life 
long  friend  Dana,  "  and  I  am  not  altogether  cer 
tain  that  I  have  got  into  a  better.  Bliss  &  White, 
however,  the  publishers  of  the  'New  York  Re 
view,'  employ  me,  which  at  present  will  be  a  liveli 
hood,  and  a  livelihood  is  all  I  got  from  the  law." 
In  another  letter  to  Dana,  written  a  few  weeks 
later,  he  adds,  "  I  do  not  know  how  long  my  con 
nection  with  this  work  will  continue.  My  salary 
is  one  thousand  dollars ;  110  great  sum,  to  be  sure, 
but  it  is  twice  what  I  got  by  my  practice  in  the 
country.  Besides,  my  dislike  for  my  profession 
was  augmenting  daily,  and  my  residence  in  Great 
Barrington,  in  consequence  of  innumerable  quar 
rels  and  factions  which  were  springing  up  every 
day  among  an  extremely  excitable  and  not  very 
enlightened  population,  had  become  quite  dis 
agreeable  to  me.  It  cost  me  more  pain  and  per 
plexity  than  it  was  worth  to  live  on  friendly  terms 
with  my  neighbors ;  and,  not  having,  as  I  flatter 
myself,  any  great  taste  for  contention,  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  get  out  of  it  as  soon  as  I  could  and 
come  to  this  great  city,  where,  if  it  was  my  lot  to 
starve,  I  might  starve  peaceably  and  quietly.  The 
business  of  sitting  in  judgment  on  books  as  they 
come  out  is  not  the  literary  employment  most  to 
my  taste,  nor  that  for  which  I  am  best  fitted,  but 


62  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

it  affords  me,  for  the  present,  a  certain  compensa 
tion." 

In  the  latter  part  of  June,  he  gives  a  yet  more 
emphatic  expression  to  his  feelings  in  a  letter  to 
Mrs.  Bryant,  whom,  in  this  experimental  stage  of 
his  career,  he  had  not  ventured  to  expose  to  the 
heats  of  summer  in  New  York  :  "  Notwithstand 
ing  the  heat,  the  noise,  and  the  unpleasant  odors  of 
the  city,  I  think  that  if  you  and  Frances  were  with 
me  I  should  pass  my  time  here  much  more  pleas 
antly  than  at  Great  Barrington.  I  am  obliged  to 
be  pretty  industrious,  it  is  true,  but  that  is  well 
enough.  In  the  mean  time  I  am  not  plagued  with 
the  disagreeable,  disgusting  drudgery  of  the  law ; 
and,  what  is  still  better,  am  aloof  from  those  mis 
erable  feuds  and  wranglings  that  make  Great  Bar 
rington  an  unpleasant  residence,  even  to  him  who 
tries  every  method  in  his  power  to  avoid  them." 

It  is  apparent  from  these  letters  that  Bryant's 
quarrel  was  not  so  much  with  the  profession  of  the 
law  as  with  the  conditions  under  which  he  had  been 
required  to  pursue  it.  Had  not  Providence  given 
him  wings  with  which  to  fly  to  more  congenial 
spheres  of  activity,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that 
he  would  have  risen  to  eminence  in  some  depart 
ment  of  that  profession.  He  had  every  faculty, 
both  moral  and  intellectual,  for  acquiring  and  de 
serving  the  confidence  of  clients.  Like  the  poet 
Cowper,  with  whom  he  had  more  points  of  resem 
blance  than  with  any  other  English  poet,  the  shy 
ness  and  delicacy  of  his  nature  disinclined  him  to 


THE  ADVENTURER.  63 

the  duties  of  a  barrister ;  but,  unlike  Cowper,  his 
shyness  was  not  so  morbid,  while  his  courage  and 
conscientiousness  would  have  sustained  him  in  the 
discharge  of  any  duty  which  his  profession  might 
impose.  Then  there  are  departments  of  the  profes 
sion  in  which  his  great  talents  and  virtues  would 
have  proved  most  effective  without  doing  any  vio 
lence  to  his  singularly  acute  and  refined  sensibili 
ties  ;  not  perhaps  in  Great  Barrington,  nor  indeed 
in  any  other  country  village,  for  no  country  vil 
lage  could  have  long  detained  such  a  lawyer  as 
Bryant  would  have  made.  Had  his  father's 
means  permitted  him  to  study  and  practice  his 
profession  in  Boston,  he  probably  would  have  ad 
hered  to  it  for  life,  and  now  be  known,  and  only 
known,  to  us  as  having  once  been  a  leading  mem 
ber  of  the  Massachusetts  bar.  Here  again  the 
audax  paupzrtas  providentially  intervened  and 
said,  "  No,  not  a  lawyer.  There  are  a  plenty  of 
men  who  can  become  leading  members  of  the 
Massachusetts  bar,  but  I  have  work  for  you  in 
another  sphere  for  which  there  is  no  one  else  afc 
present  equally  fitted." 

As  Bryant  had  staked  everything  upon  his  New 
York  venture,  he  led  an  anxious  as  well  as  labori 
ous  life  for  the  next  few  years.  But  he  had  youth 
and  its  inexhaustible  faith  to  sustain  him  ;  he  had 
congenial  if  not  very  remunerative  employment ; 
and  in  Cooper  and  Verplanck  and  Anderson  and 
Sands  and  William  Ware  he  had  the  society  of 
friends,  whose  devotion  to  him  only  terminated 


64  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

with  their  lives.  Though  his  share  of  work  on  the 
"  Review  "  was  quite  enough  for  him,  it  did  not 
prevent  his  availing  himself  of  every  opportunity 
of  putting  down  new  roots  in  the  community  to 
which  he  had  been  transferred.  In  the  autumn  of 
1825  he  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  Athenaeum 
Society  to  deliver  some  lectures  on  English  poetry. 
Though  elementary  in  their  scope  and  prepared 
for  a  temporary  forum,  these  lectures,  four  in 
number,  are  still  worth  reading.  While  deliver 
ing  these  discourses,  Bryant  was  appointed  a  pro 
fessor  in  one  of  the  schools  organized  under  the 
auspices  of  the  National  Academy  of  the  Arts  of 
Design,  then  recently  established.  He  read  to  his 
classes  five  lectures  on  the  subject  of  Mythology, 
in  December,  1827,  which  proved  so  acceptable 
that  he  was  called  upon  to  repeat  them  in  each  of 
the  three  or  four  succeeding  years.  To  the  "  Re 
view  "  he  was  also  the  principal  contributor  both 
in  prose  and  verse,  and  among  his  poetical  contri 
butions,  "The  Song  of  Pitcairn's  Island,"  "Lines 
on  Revisiting  the  Country,"  "  I  cannot  forget," 
"The  Death  of  the  Flowers,"  and  "Hymns  to 
Death,"  are  now  as  much  read,  perhaps,  as  any 
verses  he  ever  wrote.  Halleck's  "  Marco  Bozzaris," 
"  Burns,"  "  Wyoming,"  and  "  Connecticut,"  the 
poems  to  which  he  owed  his  fame,  also  first  ap 
peared  in  the  "  Review."  But  in  spite  of  these 
and  all  its  other  attractions  it  did  not  thrive,  and 
Bryant's  prospects  at  the  close  of  his  first  year's 
experience  as  "a  literary  adventurer,"  as  he 


THE  ADVENTURER.  G5 

styled  himself,  were  anything  but  encouraging. 
Various  expedients  were  resorted  to,  but  in  vain, 
to  revive  the  drooping  fortunes  of  the  "  Review." 
In  March,  1826,  it  and  "  The  New  York  Literary 
Gazette  "  were  united  under  the  name  of  "  The 
New  York  Literary  Gazette  or  American  Athe 
naeum."  In  July  following  this  conglomerate  was 
united  with  the  "  United  States  Gazette  "  of  Bos 
ton,  taking  the  title  of  the  "  United  States  Review 
and  Literary  Gazette,"  under  the  joint  editorship 
of  James  G.  Carter  in  Boston  and  Bryant  in  New 
York.  Bryant  was  allowed  a  quarter  ownership, 
five  hundred  dollars  a  year  salary,  and  a  prospec 
tive  increase  contingent  upon  the  increase  of  sub 
scribers.  But  these  changes  were  only  changes  in 
name ;  the  subscribers  did  not  increase,  and  the 
divided  editorial  control  proved  anything  but  an 
advantage.  The  horizon  seemed  to  be  shutting  in 
with  darkness  all  around  him.  He  was  a  young 
man ;  he  had  a  wife  and  child  dependent  upon  him ; 
he  had  embarked  in  a  new  profession  among 
strangers  in  a  strange  city.  Like  a  castaway  in 
the  wide  ocean,  the  more  he  exerted  himself  the 
more  rapidly  he  exhausted  his  strength,  with  no 
evidence  apparent  that  his  prospects  of  succor  were 
improving.  His  confidence  in  the  sustaining  power 
of  his  pen  was  so  shaken  that  he  applied  for  and 
obtained  a  license  to  practice  law  in  the  courts  of 
New  York,  in  anticipation  of  being  again  obliged 

"to  drudge  for  the  dregs  of  men, 
And  scrawl  strange  words  with  the  barbarous  pen, 


66  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

And  mingle  among  the  jostling-  crowd 
Where  the  sons  of  strife  are  subtle  and  loud." 

Whatever  Bryant  strongly  felt  was  pretty  sure, 
sooner  or  later,  to  find  expression  in  verse,  and  it 
was  under  the  depressing  influences  about  him  that 
he  wrote  the  following  lines,  which  he  entitled 
"  The  Journey  of  Life." 

"  Beneath  the  waning  moon  I  walk  at  night, 

And  muse  on  human  life  —  for  all  around 
Are  dim  uncertain  shapes  that  cheat  the  sight, 

And  pitfalls  lurk  in  shade  along  the  ground, 
And  broken  gleams  of  brightness  here  and  there 
Glance  through,  and  leave  unwarmed,  the  death  like  air. 

"  The  trampled  earth  returns  a  sound  of  fear  — 

A  hollow  sound,  as  if  I  walked  on  tombs ; 
And  lights,  that  tell  of  cheerful  homes,  appear 

Far  off,  and  die  like  hope  amid  the  glooms. 
A  mournful  wind  across  the  landscape  flies, 
And  the  white  atmosphere  is  full  of  sighs. 

"  And  I,  with  faltering  footsteps,  journey  on, 

Watching  the  stars  that  roll  the  hours  away, 
Till  the  faint  light  that  guides  me  now  is  gone, 

And,  like  another  life,  the  glorious  day 
Shall  open  o'er  me  from  the  empyreal  height, 
With  warmth  and  certainty  and  boundless  light" 

When  read  by  the  light  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  ^they  were  written,  these  lines  are  very  af 
fecting,  and  yet  more  than  with  their  pathos  one 
is  impressed  with  the  unfaltering  faith  with  which 
they  are  eloquent.  There  is  no  repining,  no  at 
tempt  to  shield  his  self-love  by  holdingTrovrdence 
responsible  for  his  hardships ;  still  less  do  we  find 
there  any  sign  of  surrender  or  of  despair,  but  the 


THE  ADVENTURER.  67 

same  pious  trust  in  the  Divine  guidance  which  a 
dozen  years  before  had  sustained  him  at  another 
crisis  in  his  career,  and  which  found  such  lofty 
expression  in  the  lines  uTo  a  Waterfowl."  In 
perusing  these  verses,  the  classical  student  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  reminded  of  the  Gentile  but  not 
unchristian  faith  revealed  in  the  following  lines  of 
the  great  lyric  poet  of  pagan  Rome  :  — 

' '  Ut  tuto  ab  atris  corpore  viperis 
Dormirem  et  ursis  ;  ut  premerer  sacra 
Jjauroque  collataque  myrto, 
Non  sine  Dis  animosus  infans."  1 

Bryant's  trust  in  Providence  was  happily  justi 
fied,  as  it  always  is  to  those  who  "  hold  out  to  the 
end."  When  his  situation  seemed  most  desperate, 
he  was  invited  to  assist  in  the  editorship  of  the 
"  New  York  Evening  Post."  This  paper,  then 
owned  by  William  Coleman  and  Michael  Burnham, 
had  already  acquired  the  commanding  position  in 
the  country  which  it  still  maintains,  and  was  a  val 
uable  property.  Bryant's  engagement  at  first  was 
temporary.  The  place  had  been  offered  to  his 
friend  Dana,  from  whom,  however,  no  answer  had 
been  received.  Dana  ultimately  declined.  This 
gave  Bryant  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  a  toler 
ably  firm  footing  in  an  employment  infinitely  more 

1  Horace,    Lib.   III.    Carmen   IV.     Thus   rendered   by   Dean 
Milman :  — 

"  From  the  black  viper  safe  and  prowling  bear, 
Sweet  slept  I,  strewn  with  sacred  leaves 
And  myrtle  twigs  —  bold  child 

Not  of  the  Gods  uuwatched." 


68  W ILL  I AM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

congenial  than  that  which  he  had  abandoned,  and 
fairly  remunerative. 

While  serving  what  may  be  termed  his  appren 
ticeship  as  a  journalist,  Bryant  continued  his  labors 
on  the  "  Review  "  until  it  paid  the  debt  of  nature, 
if  no  other.1  He  then  joined  his  friends  Verplanck 
and  Sands  in  editing  an  annual  called  the  "  Talis 
man."  The  first  one  appeared  in  1828.  It  was 
succeeded  by  another  in  1829,  and  a  third  in  1830, 
when  it  was  abandoned  by  its  editors  for  more  en 
grossing  and  profitable  employment.2 

With  permanence  of  position  Bryant  was  also 
wise  and  fortunate  enough  to  acquire  an  interest 
in  the  property  of  the  u  Evening  Post." 

1  Bryant's  poetical  contributions  to  the  Eeview  were,  "  October," 
"The    Damsel   of   Pern,"    "The   African   Chief,"    "Spring   in 
Town,"    "The  Gladness  of  Nature,"    "The  Greek  Partisan," 
"The   Two   Graves,"    and    "The   Conjunction  of   Jupiter  and 
Venus." 

2  Bryant's  poetical  contributions  to  the   Talisman  were,   "A 
Scene  on  the  Banks  of  the  Hudson,"  "The  Hurricane,"  "Wil 
liam  Tell,"   "Innocent  Child  and  Snow-white  Flower,"   "The 
Close  of  Autumn,"  "To  the  Past,"  "The  Hunter's  Serenade," 
"  The  Greek  Boy,"  "  To  the  Evening  Wind,"  "  Love  and  Folly," 
"  The  Siesta,"  "Romero,"  "  To  the  River  Arve,"    '  To  the  Painter 
Cole,"   and  "Eva,"  including  "The  Alcayde  of  Molina,"  and 
' '  The  Death  of  Aliatar. "     It  is  a  proof  how  little  the  Review 
had  been  known  that  two  or  three  of  these  were  republished  from 
it  without  detection.      His  prose  pieces  were,  ' '  An  Adventure  in 
the  East  Indies,"  "The  Cascade  of  Melsingah,"  "Recollections 
of  the  South  of  Spain,"  "  Moriscan  Romances,"  "Story  of  the 
Island   of   Cuba,"   "The    Indian   Spring,"    "The  Whirlwind," 
"Early  Spanish   Poetry,"    "  Phanette   des   Gautelmes,"    "The 
Marriage    Blunder,"   and  parts    of   the    "Devil's    Pulpit"   and 
"Reminiscences  of  New  York." 


THE  ADVENTURER.  69 

Writing  to  Dana  in  February,  1829,  he  said,  "  I 
am  a  small  proprietor  in  the  establishment,  and  am 
a  gainer  by  the  arrangement.  It  will  afford  me  a 
comfortable  livelihood  after  I  have  paid  for  the 
eighth  part,  which  is  the  amount  of  my  share.  I 
do  not  like  politics  any  better  than  you  do ;  but 
they  get  only  my  mornings,  and  you  know  politics 
and  a  bellyful  are  better  than  poetry  and  starva 
tion." 

Only  five  months  after  this  letter  was  written 
Mr.  Coleman,  the  editor-in-chief  and  proprietor, 
died,  and  Bryant  was  immediately  promoted  to  his 
seat.  With  this  promotion,  also,  he  acquired  an 
additional  interest  in  the  property,1  of  which  he 
continued  the  proprietor  during  the  remainder  of 
his  life,  about  half  a  century. 

1  For  this  purpose  I  am  told  that  Henry  Sedgwick  lent  him 
two  thousand  dollars. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   JOURNALIST. 

WHEN  Bryant  entered  the  office  of  the  "  Even 
ing  Post,"  he  embarked  in  a  profession  which  was 
destined  to  absorb  his  best  energies  for  the  remain 
ing  years  of  a  long  life.  For  more  than  half  of 
our  national  existence  he  was  the  directing  mind 
of  that  journal.  During  all  this  long  period  he 
contracted  no  other  business  engagements,  he  was 
never  officially  engaged  in  the  administration  of 
any  other  financial  or  industrial  enterprise,  nor 
did  he  ever  accept  any  political  office.  And  yet  I 
do  not  recall  the  name  of  any  other  American,  save 
Dr.  Franklin,  who  for  as  loftg  a  period  was  so 
unremittingly  and  effectively  occupied  in  shaping 
public  opinion,  nor  one  who  ever  gave  so  many 
hours  of  conscientious  thought  to  questions  involv 
ing  so  exclusively  the  interests  and  welfare  of  man 
kind.  Nowhere  else  in  our  literature,  I  believe, 
can  be  found  such  a  continuous,  complete,  and  sat 
isfactory  record  of  the  growth  and  expansion  of 
political  thought  in  the  United  States  as  in  the 
columns  of  the  "  Evening  Post  "  during  the  first 
fifty  years  of  Bryant's  connection  with  it.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  name  any  subject  of  general  concern 


THE  JOURNALIST.  71 

that  fell  properly  within  the  domain  of  secular 
journalism  during  that  period  that  he  did  not  deal 
with,  and  in  a  way  to  deserve,  and  usually  to  com 
mand,  the  respectful  attention  even  of  those  who 
were  not  prepared  to  accept  all  his  conclusions. 

Journalism  when  Bryant  entered  the  profes 
sion  was  as  little  like  the  journalism  of  1889  as 
Jason's  fifty-oared  craft  "  Argo"  was  like  a  mod 
ern  steam  packet.  The  commercial  value  of  news 
merely  as  news  to  the  daily  press  was  as  much 
undervalued  as  anthracite  coal  for  fuel,  or  elec 
tricity  for  light.  The  newspaper  was  usually  estab 
lished  in  the  interest  of  some  prominent  party 
leader,  who  fought  his  battles  in  its  columns.  The 
editor  was  more  or  less  his  party's  mouthpiece, 
and  the  readers  consulted  its  columns  mainly  for 
its  political  indications.  The  modern  reporter  was 
yet  in  the  chrysalis  stage  of  existence,  while  the 
"interviewer"  was  as  one  of  those  remote  stars, 
the  light  of  which  had  not  yet  reached  our  planet. 
A  wreekly  packet  with  the  news  in  a  file  of  London 
papers,  condensed  into  a  few  paragraphs,  supplied 
all  the  information  from  the  outside  world  for 
which  there  seemed  to  be  any  demand,  while  local 
news  was  limited  pretty  much  to  such  items  as 
friends  of  the  editor  or  interested  parties  might 
take  the  trouble  to  communicate.  The  evolution 
or  transformation  of  our  journalism  from  its  stage 
of  organism  to  the  newspaper  proper  was  of  a  later 
date,  and  was  due  to  the  absence  rather  than  to  the 
presence  of  qualities  from  which  success  could  then 


72  WILLIAM    CL'LLEN  BRYANT. 

have  been  predicated.  Lacking  the  literary  train 
ing  and  accomplishment  of  an  effective  writer,  the 
late  James  Gordon  Bennett  had  the  sagacity  to  find 
in  news  and  gossip  a  cheap  substitute  for  brilliant 
leaders.  These  features  of  the  "Herald"  news 
paper,  which  he  founded,  attracted  readers  from  the 
larger  class  who  had  only  a  secondary  interest  in 
politics,  and  placed  his  journal  upon  an  independ 
ent  financial  footing  which  delivered  it  from  the 
thrall  of  scheming  politicians.  It  was,  I  believe, 
the  first  politically  independent  secular  journal 
published  in  the  United  States.  In  proportion  as 
the  daily  prints,  following  the  example  of  the 
"Herald,"  have  become  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name 
newspapers,  have  they  become  representatives  of 
the  whole  people,  instead  of  being  merely  the  rep 
resentatives  of  political  parties  and  factions. 

For  the  first  twenty  years  of  his  connection  with 
the  "  Evening  Post,"  Bryant  had  but  one  perma 
nent  assistant  in  his  office,  a  scanty  report  of  the 
shipping  and  financial  intelligence  being  supplied 
to  the  "  Evening  Post "  in  common  with  some 
other  papers,  each  bearing  its  proportion  of  the 
expense.  The  attraction  and  influence  of  the  pa 
per  depended  mainly  upon  its  editorials,  which 
rarely  occupied  more  than  a  column. 

As  the  "  Evening  Post "  was  published  in  the 
afternoon,  the  work  on  it  had  to  begin  at  an  early 
hour  of  the  morning.  During  the  first  forty  years 
of  his  editorial  life,  it  was  a  rare  thing  for  Mr. 
Bryant,  if  in  town,  not  to  be  found  at  his  desk 


THE  JOURNALIST.  73 

before  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  was  not 
a  fluent  nor  a  very  prolific  writer.  Beside  his 
natural  fastidiousness,  he  had  a  literary  reputation 
to  sustain,  with  which  he  never  allowed  himself  to 
trifle.  His  manuscripts,  as  well  as  his  proofs,  were 
commonly  so  disfigured  by  corrections  as  to  be 
read  with  difficulty  even  by  those  familiar  with  his 
script. 

Good  poets  have  usually  been  masters  of  a  supe 
rior  prose  style.  Bryant  was  no  exception.  Though 
he  neither  sought  nor  expected  fame  from  his 
prose,  he  was  careful  to  print  nothing  that  could 
in  any  way  compromise  his  reputation  as  a  poet. 
As  a  consequence,  in  all  his  contributions  to  his 
paper,  I  doubt  if  as  many  erroneous  or  defective 
forms  of  expression  can  be  found  as  in  the  first  ten 
numbers  of  the  "  Spectator."  He  never  allowed 
slang  or  affectations  of  expression  of  any  kind  a 
place  in  its  columns,  nor  would  he  allow  the  clients 
of  the  "Evening  Post"  ever  to  be  described  or 
recognized  as  "patrons."  In  a  letter  to  a  young 
man  who  had  asked  his  opinion  of  an  article  he 
had  written,  he  has  given  the  following  brief 
exposition  of  what  he  regarded  as  the  rudimen 
tary  principles  of  good  writing  for  the  periodical 
press :  — 

"I  observe  that  you  have  used  several  French 
expressions  in  your  letter.  I  think  if  you  will 
study  the  English  language,  that  you  will  find  it 
capable  of  expressing  all  the  ideas  you  may  have. 
I  have  always  found  it  so,  and  in  all  that  I  have 


74  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

written  I  do  not  recall  an  instance  where  I  was 
tempted  to  use  a  foreign  word  but  that,  on  search 
ing,  I  have  found  a  better  one  in  my  own  language. 

"  Be  simple,  unaffected  ;  be  honest  in  your 
speaking  and  writing.  Never  use  a  long  word 
where  a  short  one  will  do  as  well. 

"  Call  a  spade  by  its  name,  not  a  well-known  ob 
long  instrument  of  manual  labor  ;  let  a  home  be  a 
home,  and  not  a  residence ;  a  place,  not  a  locality, 
and  so  on  of  the  rest.  When  a  short  word  will 
do,  you  will  always  lose  by  a  long  one  ;  you  lose  in 
clearness,  you  lose  in  honest  expression  of  mean 
ing,  and,  in  the  estimation  of  all  men  who  are  ca 
pable  of  judging,  you  lose  in  reputation  for  ability. 
•  "  The  only  true  way  to  shine,  even  in  this  false 
world,  is  to  be  modest  and  unassuming.  False 
hood  may  be  a  thick  crust,  but  in  the  course  of 
time  Truth  will  find  a  place  to  break  through. 
Elegance  of  language  may  not  be  in  the  power  of 
us  all,  but  simplicity  and  straightforwardness  are." 

He  rarely  quoted,  in  support  of  his  own  opin 
ions,  or  for  a  more  effective  statement  of  them ; 
and,  as  a  rule,  he  never  quoted  in  a  foreign  tongue. 
If  he  did  by  chance,  it  was  apt  to  be  with  an 
apology. 

Bryant's  prose,  like  his  poetry,  was  always  clear. 
No  one  could  mistake  his  meaning,  nor  have  the 
least  difficulty  in  gathering  it  from  his  language. 
Nor  did  he  ever  try  to  leave  a  different  impres 
sion  from  that  which  his  words  strictly  imported. 
Though  master  of  a  genial  humor  as  well  as  of  a 


THE  JOURNALIST.  75 

refined  irony,  he  never  trifled  with  serious  matters, 
nor  with  his  readers.  He  never  made  sport  of  the 
calamities  or  afflictions  even  of  the  most  depraved, 
taught  both  by  what  nature  discloses  and  by  what 
she  conceals, 

' '  Never  to  blend  our  pleasure  or  our  pride 

With  sorrow  of  the  meanest  thing  that  feels." 

He  rigorously  eschewed  the  discussion  of  religious 
topics,  especially  those  of  a  controverted  character. 
He  never  could  be  beguiled  into  personal  contro 
versy,  insisting  that  every  line  of  a  newspaper  be 
longed  to  the  public  that  paid  for  it,  and  could  not 
honestly  be  perverted  to  the  gratification  of  the 
vanity  or  spite  or  self-sufficiency  of  its  editors. 
How  much  Bryant's  example  has  had  to  do  with 
the  marvelous  improvements  in  the  literary  quality 
and  moral  tone  which  distinguishes  the  journalism 
of  to-day  from  that  which  prevailed  during  the 
first  quarter  of  the  century  is  only  known  to  those 
who  have  been  witnesses  of  the  change,  and  they 
will  soon  have  all  passed  away.  The  number  of 
such  as  are  disposed  to  disinter  the  genius  and 
professional  virtues  which  are  sepulchred  in  the 
files  of  an  old  newspaper  is  very  limited.  Nor 
would  Bryant  have  had  it  otherwise,  for  he  had  no 
desire  to  be  remembered  as  a  "journalist,"  pro 
foundly  as  he  was  interested  in  all  he  sought  to 
accomplish  as  such  for  human  society. 

Bryant  had  one  peculiarity  which  would  hardly 
have  been  so  conspicuous  in  any  other  profession. 
He  rarely  if  ever  gave  advice,  and,  unless  in  his 


76  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

domestic  circle,  of  which  I  cannot  speak,  never  un 
asked.  Even  the  juniors  in  his  office,  the  u  'pren 
tice  hands  "  of  his  staff,  had  to  study  their  profes 
sion  from  his  example,  not  from  his  precepts.  His 
reasons  for  this  can  only  be  conjectured.  He  may 
have  felt  with  Shaftesbury  that  "  that  which  we 
call  '  giving  advice '  was  properly  taking  an  occa 
sion  to  show  our  wisdom  at  another's  expense."  A 
gentleman  who  was  associated  with  him  many  years 
in  the  management  of  the  "  Evening  Post,"  com 
menting  upon  this  peculiarity,  remarked  :  — 

"  When  T  entered  the  office  I  had  had  some  little  prac 
tice  as  a  writer  for  magazines,  such  as  is  common  to  most 
young  men  of  strong  literary  tastes,  but  I  had  had  no  ex 
perience  in  journalism  proper.  As  a  matter  of  course  I 
was  continually  doing  things  I  ought  not  to  have  done, 
and  leaving  undone  things  I  ought  to  have  done.  Bryant 
never  rebuked  me  ;  he  never  criticised  me.  In  looking 
over  my  proofs  he  would  occasionally  say,  '  Had  not  this 
word  better  be  changed  for  that  or  the  other  ?  Does  that 
phrase  express  all  or  more  than  you  mean,  or  as  clearly 
as  you  wish  it  to  ?  '  Even  this  mode  of  correction  was 
very  rare.  As  I  became  more  familiar  with  my  duties, 
and  compared  my  own  work  with  his,  I  realized  how  often 
I  must  have  offended  ;  how  much  I  must  have  written  that 
he  would  not  have  written  ;  how  many  canons  of  the 
master  I  must  have  violated,  and  in  my  hours  of  soli 
tary  meditation  often  wondered  what  could  be  the  secret 
of  his  silence  and  forbearance.  My  heart  once  almost 
ceased  to  beat  when  the  suspicion  crossed  my  mind  that 
he  thought  criticism  and  instruction  would  be  wasted 
upon  me.  But  just  in  proportion  to  his  tolerance  was  my 


THE  JOURNALIST.  77 

vigilance  in  searching  for  the  difference  between  his  work 
and  mine,  and  as  far  and  as  fast  as  possible  were  my 
efforts  to  diminish  their  number.  Before  long  I  became 
sensible  that  he  had  pursued  the  wiser  course,  and  that  I 
improved  much  faster  by  being  driven  for  guidance  to  his 
example,  which,  like  the  shadow  of  St.  Peter,  exerted  a 
healing  influence  upon  whomsoever  it  fell,  than  if  he  had 
begun  with  me  by  pointing  out  my  errors  and  deficiencies, 
which  would  probably  have  had  the  effect  either  of  mak 
ing  me  timid  and  of  discouraging  me,  or  of  leaving  me  to 
suppose  that  all  he  did  not  censure  was  satisfactory.  Of 
course  all  his  literary  standards  were  at  least  as  much 
higher  than  mine  as  he  was  my  senior.  He  knew,  there 
fore,  that  he  could  not  impose  them  successfully  upon 
me  then,  but  that  I  must,  as  far  as  in  me  lay,  grow  to 
them,  as  the  acorn  grows  to  be  an  oak,  and  that  the  at 
tempt  would  only  result  either  in  rebellion  or  in  convert 
ing  me  into  a  machine.  The  respect  I  thus  acquired  for 
his  example,  not  only  as  a  journalist,  but  for  his  standards 
in  every  relation  in  life,  grew  upon  me  steadily  while 
our  professional  association  lasted,  so  that,  for  years  after 
it  ceased,  when  in  perplexing  situations  and  in  doubt 
about  what  it  was  becoming  and  proper  for  me  to  do  or 
to  leave  undone,  I  found  myself  instinctively  and  habit 
ually  asking  myself,  '  What  would  Bryant  do  in  my  sit 
uation  ?  '  And  it  almost  invariably  happened  that  when 
subjected  to  this  test  all  my  doubts  promptly  vanished. 
I  had  no  hesitation  in  doing  what  I  should  not  have 
been  surprised  to  see  him  do,  while  I  shrank  from  any 
thing  which  would  have  surprised  me  if  done  by  him.  I 
have  known  many  wise  and  excellent  men  in  my  life, 
but  no  one  whose  example  pursued  me  so  faithfully  or 
with  any  such  results.  And  I  trust  I  have  learned  from 


78  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

him  to  have  a  more  just  appreciation  of  the   relative 
importance  of  example  and  advice." 

Though'  he  had  been  trained  in  the  strictest  prin 
ciples  of  New  England  Federalism,  Bryant  found, 
when  he  came  to  be  clothed  with  the  responsibilities 
of  a  leader  and  guide,  that  his  controlling  sympa 
thies  and  instincts  were  with  the  Democratic  party. 
Jackson  wras  President.  Plis  battle  with  nullifica 
tion  in  the  South,  and  with  the  Bank  of  the  United 
States,  and  his  vetoes  of  road,  river,  and  harbor 
bills,  as  being  special  or  local  instead  of  national 
in  their  bearing,  commanded  his  cordial  approval. 
He  early  embraced  the  conviction  which  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  the  Democratic  polity,  not  that  that 
government  is  best  that  governs  least,  but  that  that 
government  is  best  which  shall  limit  its  functions 
most  completely  to  those  of  an  effective  police  in 
keeping  every  man's  hand  off  of  every  other  man, 
and  off  of  his  property.  Whenever  government 
transcended  these  functions,  he  thought  it  required 
close  watching,  with  all  the  presumptions  against 
it.  This  conviction  led  him  early  to  question  the 
wisdom  of  granting  special  charters  to  banks ;  to 
denounce  the  inspection,  conspiracy,  and  usury 
laws ;  to  favor  the  removal  of  all  legislative  re 
strictions  upon  commerce,  and  to  provide  for  the 
expenses  of  government  by  a  strictly  revenue 
tariff.  He  assented  to  and  effectively  supported 
the  tariff  of  1846,  framed  upon  the  principle  enun 
ciated  by  Governor  Silas  Wright,  —  a  tariff  for 
revenue,  with  incidental  protection.  The  formula 


THE  JOURNALIST.  79 

would  have  pleased  him  better  with  the  "  incidental 
protection  "  left  out. 

Whenever  he  had  occasion  to  speak  of  slavery,  he 
never  was  its  apologist,  nor  did  he  ever  neglect  an 
opportunity  of  rendering  any  practical  assistance 
to  the  cause  of  emancipation  ;  and  when  the  ques 
tion  of  extending  the  territory  afflicted  with  slav 
ery  arose,  no  journal  in  the  country  labored  more 
or  suffered  more  in  resisting  such  extension.  He 
never  advocated  the  abolition  of  slavery  by  the 
federal  government  until  it  became  justifiable 
and  expedient  as  a  war  measure.  The  courts  and 
the  laws,  if  not  the  Constitution,  had  placed  slavery 
within  the  States  under  the  protection  of  the  Con 
stitution  in  the  judgment  of  the  leading  states 
men  of  all  parties.  Mr.  Bryant  acquiesced  in  this 
judgment  as  he  acquiesced  in  many  other  national 
abuses  which  he  saw  no  means  of  remedying.  But 
when  the  census  of  1860  revealed  to  the  country 
the  fact  that  the  political  ascendency  of  the  slave- 
holding  States  had  departed,  and  that  the  non- 
slaveholding  States  had  a  majority  in  both  houses 
of  Congress ;  and  when,  for  the  purpose  of  restor 
ing  such  ascendency,  they  endeavored  to  carry  slav 
ery  into  all  the  vast  unsettled  territories  of  the 
Northwest,  the  "  Evening  Post "  did  not  hesitate 
to  take  the  attitude  of  unhesitating  and  uncom 
promising  opposition,  preferring  that  the  question 
should  be  settled  by  the  dread  arbitrament  of  war 
to  any  responsibility  for  the  surrender  of  one  more 
inch  of  American  soil  to  be  tilled  by  the  hands  of 


80  WILLIAM   CULLKN  BRYANT. 

bondmen.  War  ensued,  and  while  supporting  the 
government  in  its  prosecution  with  all  the  vigor  of 
his  pen  and  the  weight  of  his  character,  true  to 
his  Democratic  instincts,  he  denounced  the  financial 
policy  of  the  government  by  which  its  paper  prom 
ises  were  made  a  lawful  tender  in  discharge  of  its 
pecuniary  obligations. 

When  Mr.  Lincoln,  in  January,  18G3,  issued  his 
proclamation  of  freedom  to  the  slaves  in  certain 
States  which  persisted  in  their  insurrection  against 
the  government,  Bryant,  while  disposed  to  accept 
it  with  gratitude  as  a  step  in  the  right  direction, 
found  it  less  comprehensive  and  definite  in  its 
terms  than  he  thought  the  occasion  called  for.  He 
did  not  believe  in  gradual  emancipation  as  a  meas 
ure  suited  to  the  emergencies  of  flagrant  war.  In 
a  speech  which  he  made  at  a  meeting  held  in  behalf 
of  the  loyalists  of  Missouri  who  were  calling  upon 
the  nation  to  protect  them,  he  portrayed  the  follies 
of  gradual  emancipation  in  terms  as  nearly  ap 
proaching  to  genuine  eloquence,  probably,  as  he 
ever  reached. 

"  Gradual  emancipation  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Have 
we  not  suffered  enough  from  slavery  without  keep 
ing  it  any  longer  ?  Has  not  blood  enough  been 
shed?  My  friends,  if  a  child  of  yours  were  to 
fall  into  the  fire,  would  you  pull  him  out  gradu 
ally  ?  If  he  were  to  swallow  a  dose  of  laudanum 
sufficient  to  cause  speedy  death,  and  a  stomach 
pump  was  at  hand,  would  you  draw  the  poison 
out  by  degrees  ?  If  your  house  were  on  fire,  would 


THE  JOURNALIST.  81 

you  put  it  out  piecemeal?  And  yet  there  are 
men  who  talk  of  gradual  emancipation  by  force  of 
ancient  habit,  and  there  are  men  in  the  Slave 
States  who  make  of  slavery  a  sort  of  idol  which 
they  are  unwilling  to  part  with ;  which,  if  it  must 
be  removed,  they  would  prefer  to  see  removed  after 
a  lapse  of  time  and  tender  leave-takings. 

"  Slavery  is  a  foul  and  monstrous  idol,  a  Jugger 
naut  under  which  thousands  are  crushed  to  death  ; 
it  is  a  Moloch  for  whom  the  children  of  the  land 
pass  through  fire.  Must  we  consent  that  the  num 
ber  of  the  victims  shall  be  diminished  gradually  ? 
If  there  are  a  thousand  victims  this  year,  are  you 
willing  that  nine  hundred  shall  be  sacrificed  next 

O 

year,  and  eight  hundred  the  next,  and  so  on  until 
after  the  lapse  of  ten  years  it  shall  cease  ?  No, 
my  friends,  let  us  hurl  the  grim  image  from  its 
pedestal.  Down  with  it  to  the  ground.  Dash  it 
to  fragments  ;  trample  it  in  the  dust.  Grind  it  to 
powder  as  the  prophets  of  old  commanded  that 
the  graven  images  of  the  Hebrew  idolaters  should 
be  ground,  and  in  that  state  scatter  it  to  the  four 
winds  and  strew  it  upon  the  waters,  that  no  human 
hand  shall  ever  again  gather  up  the  accursed  atoms 
and  mould  them  into  an  image  to  be  worshiped 
again  with  human  sacrifice." 

When  the  war  had  terminated,  it  was  the  deliv 
erance  of  the  nation  from  all  complicity  with  slav 
ery  that  he  regarded  as  its  great  and  compensating 
result. 

A  few  weeks  after  peace  was  reestablished,  his 


82  WILL  1 AM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

feelings  of  patriotic  pride  and  satisfaction  over 
flowed  in  a  letter  of  congratulation  to  Miss  Sedg- 
wick,  in  the  course  of  which  he  said,  "Never, 
I  think,  was  any  great  moral  lesson  so  powerfully 
inculcated  by  political  history.  What  the  critics 
call  poetic  justice  has  been  as  perfectly  accom 
plished  as  it  could  have  been  in  any  imaginary 
series  of  events. 

"  When  I  think  of  this  great  conflict  and  its 
great  issues,  my  mind  reverts  to  the  grand  imagery 
of  the  Apocalypse  —  to  the  visions  in  which  the 
messengers  of  God  came  down  to  do  his  bidding 
among  the  nations,  to  reap  the  earth,  ripe  for  the 
harvest,  and  gather  the  spoil  of  the  vineyards; 
to  tread  the  winepress  till  it  flows  over  far  and 
wide  with  blood  ;  to  pour  out  the  phials  of  God's 
judgments  upon  the  earth  and  turn  its  rivers  into 
blood ;  and,  finally,  to  bind  the  dragon  and  thrust 
him  down  into  the  bottomless  pit. 

"  Neither  you  nor  I  thought,  until  this  war  be 
gan,  that  slavery  would  disappear  from  our  coun 
try  until  more  than  one  generation  had  passed 
away.  Yet  a  greater  than  man  has  taken  the  work 
in  hand,  and  it  is  done  in  four  years.  It  is  a  great 
thing  to  have  lived  long  enough  to  have  seen  this 
mighty  evil  wrenched  up  from  our  soil  by  the  roots 
and  thrown  into  the  flames." 

The  war  over,  Bryant  directed  all  his  influence 
and  effort  to  the  reparation  of  the  graver  financial 
errors  of  the  government,  which  the  exigencies  of 
the  preceding  five  years  had,  in  the  judgment  of 


THE  JOURNALIST.  83 

patriots,  palliated  if  not  excused.  He  insisted 
upon  the  immediate  repeal  of  the  "legal  tender 
act ;  "  he  exposed  and  denounced  the  schemes  which 
were  rife,  especially  in  the  Western  and  Southern 
States,  for  the  increase  of  inconvertible  currency, 
then  popularly  known  as  "  soft  money ; "  and  he 
urged  with  unwonted  vehemence  the  liberation  of 
the  industries  and  commerce  of  the  country  from 
the  paralyzing  burdens  of  what  is  euphuistically 
termed  "  a  war  tariff,"  and  the  accumulation  in 
the  treasury  of  wealth  unnecessarily  withdrawn 
from  the  channels  of  productive  industry. 

On  the  brief  chart  of  Bryant's  career  which  we 
are  fashioning,  it  is  only  possible  to  set  down  the 
headlands  of  the  route  by  which  he  journeyed.  The 
topics  we  have  enumerated  constitute  but  a  very 
inconsiderable  portion  of  those  which  he  had  occa 
sion  to  treat  in  the  course  of  his  long  professional 
career,  but  they  show  the  single-eyed,  large-minded, 
and  patriotic  spirit  with  which  he  dealt  with  all 
public  questions.  It  is  doubtful  if  so  wise,  com 
prehensive,  and  edifying  a  system  of  political  ethics 
as  might  be  compiled  from  Mr.  Bryant's  editorial 
contributions  to  the  "  Evening  Post  "  can  be  found 
elsewhere  in  the  literature  of  our  own  or  of  any 
other  country.  I  do  not  believe  any  man  ever  sat 
down  to  the  discharge  of  a  professional  duty  with  a 
more  resolute  determination  to  exclude  the  influ 
ence  of  personal  or  selfish  considerations.  He  re 
peatedly  felt  himself  constrained  to  take  the  unpop- 
lar  side  on  important  public  questions.  His  support 


84  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

of  General  Jackson  in  his  war  against  the  United 
States  Bank  aroused  a  feeling  against  his  paper 
among  the  merchants  of  New  York,  upon  whom 
its  existence  largely  depended,  which  no  one  of 
much  less  weight  of  personal  character  and  author 
ity  could  have  surmounted.  The  attitude  of  his 
journal  upon  the  slavery  question  also  stripped  its 
columns  of  most  of  its  advertisements,  and  brought 
it  to  the  verge  of  bankruptcy. 

During  the  riots  of  18C3,  it  enjoyed  the  distinc 
tion  of  being  threatened  by  a  reactionary  mob,  and 
had  not  special  measures  of  defense  been  season 
ably  taken,  it  would  doubtless  have  been  sacked.1 
His  firmness,  his  fidelity  to  principle,  his  uncalcu- 
lating  devotion  to  the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest 
number,  and  the  dignified  and  temperate  way  in 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  commend  his  views  to 
the  public  were  not  wasted,  though  at  times  they 
seemed  to  contribute  more  to  deplete  than  replen 
ish  his  exchequer.  If  many  from  that  day  turned 

1  The  following1  note  was  sent  in  reply  to  one  from  his  steward, 
Mr.  Cline,   informing  him  that  some  one  in  the  cars  had  been 
overheard  to  say  that  "  Bryant's  house  would  have  to  blaze." 
OFFICE  OF  THE  EVENING  POST. 
NEW  YORK,  July  18,  18C3. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Mr.  Henderson  has  just  shown  me  your  letter. 
Four  revolvers  and  ammunition  will  be  sent  down  to  you  this  even 
ing.  Mr.  Godwin  and  Bryant  (his  grandson)  know  how  they  are 
to  be  used,  if  you  and  others  about  you  do  not.  You  will,  I 
hope,  be  discreet  in  what  you  say,  and  though  not  believing  too 
much  of  what  is  reported,  be  ready  for  the  worst.  If  John  and 
Jacob  are  willing  to  aid  in  the  defense  of  the  house,  you  may  re 
munerate  them.  As  to  Thomas,  I  am  sure  I  may  depend  on  him 
as  one  not  easily  frightened. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  85 

back  from  following  him,  there  was  probably  no 
man  in  the  whole  country  who  was  personally  more 
respected.  Even  in  Tammany  Hall,  where  his 
paper  and  political  doctrines  were  publicly  de 
nounced,  a  quotation  from  his  poems  by  its  speak 
ers  would  be  received  with  rounds  of  applause. 

During  the  earlier  and  less  prosperous  portions 
of  his  editorial  career,  the  poet  and  the  journalist 
wrestled  with  each  other  in  the  affections  of  Bryant 
like  Esau  and  Jacob  in  the  womb  of  Rebecca. 
There  was  probably  no  time  during  the  first  twenty 
years  of  his  connection  with  the  "  Evening  Post  " 
that  he  would  not  gladly  have  abandoned  all  his 
interests  in  the  property  for  half  of  what  he  re 
ceived  from  it  later  in  a  single  year.  This  feeling 
nearly  mastered  him  during  the  bank  war  and  the 
monetary  crisis  which  followed  it.  Writing  to  his 
friend  Dana  in  1836,  — he  had  already  been  seven 
years  on  the  "  Post,"  —  he  says  :  — 

"  Plans  for  the  future  I  have  none  at  present, 
except  to  work  hard  as  I  am  now  obliged  to  do ;  I 
hope,  however,  the  day  will  come  when  I  may  re 
tire  without  danger  of  starving,  and  give  myself 
to  occupations  that  I  like  better.  But  who  is  suf 
fered  to  shape  the  course  of  his  own  life  ?  " 

In  July  following,  he  writes  to  his  wife :  — 

"  '  The  Evening  Post '  was  a  sad,  dull  thing  dur 
ing  the  winter  after  Sedgwick l  left  it,  and  people 

1  During  Mr.  Bryant's  absence  the  previous  year  in  Europe, 
his  partner,  Mr.  Leggett,  had  been  taken  ill,  and  the  columns  of 
the  Evening  Post  were  temporarily  confided  to  Theodore  Sedg- 


86  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

were  getting  tired  of  it.  I  have  raised  it  a  good 
deal,  so  that  it  begins  to  be  talked  about  and 
quoted.  I  must  now  apply  myself  to  bringing  it 
up  to  its  old  standard,  after  which  I  shall  look  for 
a  purchaser.  Dr.  Anderson  says  he  will  find  me 
one.  I  think  from  the  attention  he  pays  to  poli 
tics,  writing  frequently,  talking  much,  and  coming 
to  the  office  to  read  the  papers  we  receive  in  ex 
change,  that  he  may  possibly  become  a  purchaser 
himself." 

How  modest  were  his  views  of  a  retiring  fortune 
in  those  days  appears  in  a  letter  written  to  his 
brother  John  in  September  of  the  same  year :  — 

"  I  think  of  making  some  disposition  of  my  in 
terest  in  the  '  Evening  Post,'  and  coming  out  to 
the  Western  country  with  a  few  thousand  dollars  to 
try  my  fortune.  What  do  you  think  of  such  a 
plan  ?  What  could  I  do  next  summer  or  fall  with 
a  little  capital  of  from  three  to  five  thousand  dol 
lars  ?  Will  you  write  me  at  large  your  views  of 
the  probability  of  my  success,  and  of  the  particular 
modes  of  investment  which  would  yield  the  larg 
est  profit?  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  might 
make  money  as  fast  as  I  can  do  it  here,  and  with 
much  less  wear  and  tear  of  brains.  Write  me 
fully,  but  do  not  go  too  much  into  conjecture ; 
speak  only  of  what  you  know,  or  of  what  has  ac 
tually  happened.  I  have  not  been  much  pleased, 

wick,  Jr.,  a  member  of  the  New  York  bar  and  a  nephew  of  Miss 
Sedg-wick,  the  authoress.  His  discussion  of  public  questions 
under  the  signature  of  "  Veto*'  enjoyed  quite  a  reputation  in 
their  day. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  87 

since  my  return,  with  New  York.  The  entire 
thoughts  of  the  inhabitants  seem  to  be  given  to 
the  acquisition  of  wealth  ;  nothing  else  is  talked 
of.  The  city  is  dirtier  and  noisier,  and  more  un 
comfortable,  and  dearer  to  live  in  than  it  ever  was 
before.  I  have  had  my  fill  of  a  town  life,  and  be 
gin  to  wish  to  pass  a  little  time  in  the  country.  I 
have  been  employed  long  enough  with  the  manage 
ment  of  a  daily  newspaper,  and  desire  leisure  for 
literary  occupations  that  I  love  better.  It  was  not 
my  intention  when  I  went  to  Europe  to  return  to 
the  business  of  conducting  a  newspaper.  If  I  were 
to  come  out  to  Illinois  next  spring  with  the  design 
of  passing  the  year  there,  what  arrangements  could 
be  made  for  my  family  ?  What  sort  of  habitation 
could  I  have,  and  what  would  it  cost  ?  I  hardly 
think  I  shall  come  to  Illinois  to  live,  but  I  can  tell 
better  after  I  have  tried  it.  You  are  so  distant 
from  all  the  large  towns,  and  the  means  of  educa 
tion  are  so  difficult  to  come  at,  and  there  is  so  little 
literary  society,  that  I  am  afraid  I  might  wish  to 
get  back  to  the  Atlantic  coast.  I  should  like,  how 
ever,  to  try  the  experiment  of  a  year  at  the  West." 
Again,  in  February  of  1821*.  he  reveals  to  his 
friend  Dana  his  yearnings  for  more  leisure  and  less 
care.  "  The  gains  you  talk  of  I  wish  I  could  see. 
The  expenses  of  printing  and  conducting  a  daily 
paper  have  vastly  increased  lately,  and  there  is  no 
increase  in  the  rate  of  advertisements,  etc.,  to  make 
it  upjp  1  should  be  very  glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
attempt  something  in  the  way  I  like  best,  and  am, 


88  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

perhaps,  fittest  for ;  but  here  I  am  a  draught-horse, 
harnessed  to  a  daily  drag.  I  have  so  much  to  do 
with  my  legs  and  hoofs,  struggling  and  pulling 
and  kicking,  that,  if  there  is  anything  of  the  Peg 
asus  in  me,  I  am  too  much  exhausted  to  use  my 
wings.  I  would  withdraw  from  the  occupation  if 
I  could  do  so  and  be  certain  of  a  moderate  subsist 
ence,  for,  with  my  habits  and  tastes,  a  very  little 
would  suffice.  I  am  growing,  I  fear,  more  discon 
tented  and  impatient  than  I  ought  to  be  at  the  lot 
whitih  has  fallen  to  me." 

In  the  following  year,  1837,  he  found  himself 
obliged  to  give  up  any  idea  of  selling  or  fleeing, 
for  reasons  assigned  in  the  following  letter  to  his 
brother  John  :  — 

"NEW  YORK,  October  25th. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind 
offer,  and  if  I  were  at  liberty  I  should  like  noth 
ing  better  than  to  pass  a  year  in  Illinois.  But  I 
am  fastened  here  for  the  present.  The  4  Evening 
Post '  cannot  be  disposed  of  in  these  times,  and, 
on  account  of  the  difficulty  of  making  collections, 
its  income  does  not  present  an  appearance  which 
would  enable  me  to  sell  it  for  its  real  value,  even 
if  I  could  find  a  purchaser.  I  am  chained  to  the 
oar  for  another  year,  at  least.  The  prospects  of 
the  journal  are,  however,  improving,  though  I  arn 
personally  no  better  for  it  at  present.  I  am  very 
much  perplexed  by  the  state  of  my  pecuniary  af 
fairs.  I  have  taken  a  house  in  town  at  as  moderate 
a  rent  as  I  could  find,  and  expect  my  family  from 


THE  JOURNALIST.  89 

the  country  in  a  very  few  days.  I  am  obliged  to 
practice  the  strictest  frugality,  but  that  I  do  not 
regard  as  an  evil.  The  great  difficulty  lies  in 
meeting  the  debts  in  which  the  purchase  of  the 
paper  has  involved  me.  When  I  went  to  Europe, 
the  '  Evening  Post '  was  producing  a  liberal  in 
come  ;  Mr.  Leggett,  who  conducted  it,  espoused 
very  zealously  the  cause  of  the  Abolitionists,  and 
then  was  taken  ill.  The  business  of  the  establish 
ment  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  drunken  and  saucy 
clerk  to  manage,  and  the  hard  times  came  on.  All 
these  things  had  a  bad  effect  on  the  profits  of  the 
paper,  and  when  I  returned  they  were  reduced  to 
little  or  nothing.  In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Leggett 
and  myself  had  contracted  a  large  debt  for  the 
purchase  of  the  '  Evening  Post.'  He  retired,  and 
the  whole  was  left  on  my  shoulders.  I  have  been 
laboring  very  diligently  to  restore  the  paper  to  a 
prosperous  state,  and  begin  to  have  hopes  that  I 
shall  retrieve  what  was  lost  during  my  absence  in 
Europe  by  careful  attention  to  the  business  of 
the  paper,  properly  so  called.  I  cannot  leave  the 
establishment  till  1  have  put  it  in  good  order.  No 
body  will  buy  it  of  me.  With  so  much  to  pay, 
and  with  a  paper  so  little  productive,  I  have  been 
several  times  on  the  point  of  giving  it  up,  and 
going  out  into  the  world  worse  than  penniless. 
Nothing  but  a  disposition  to  look  at  the  hopeful 
side  of  things  prevented  me,  and  I  now  see  reason 
to  be  glad  that  I  persevered. 

"I  have  no  leisure  for  poetry.     The  labors  in 


90  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

which  I  am  engaged  would  not,  perhaps,  be  great 
to  many  people,  but  they  are  as  great  as  I  can 
endure  with  a  proper  regard  to  my  health.  I  can 
not  pursue  intellectual  labor  so  long  as  many  of 
a  more  robust  or  less  nervous  temperament.  My 
constitution  requires  intervals  of  mental  repose. 
To  keep  myself  in  health  I  take  long  walks  in  the 
country,  for  half  a  day,  a  day,  or  two  days.  I  can 
not  well  leave  my  business  for  a  longer  period,  and 
I  accustom  myself  to  the  greatest  simplicity  of 
diet,  renouncing  tea,  coffee,  animal  food,  etc.  By 
this  means  I  enjoy  a  health  scarcely  ever  inter 
rupted,  but  when  I  am  fagged  I  hearken  to  nature 
and  allow  her  to  recruit.  I  find  by  experience 
that  this  must  be  if  I  would  not  kill  myself.  What 
you  say  of  living  happily  on  small  means  I  agree 
to  with  all  my  heart.  My  ideas  of  competence 
have  not  enlarged  a  single  dollar.  Indeed,  they 
have  rather  been  moderated  and  reduced  by  recent 
events,  and  I  would  be  willing  to  compound  for 
a  less  amount  than  I  would  have  done  three  or 
four  years  since.  If  I  had  the  means  of  retir 
ing,  I  would  go  into  the  country,  where  1  could 
adopt  a  simpler  mode  of  living,  and  follow  the 
bent  of  my  inclination  in  certain  literary  pursuits, 
but  I  have  a  duty  to  perform  to  my  creditors." 

Among  the  unanswerable  problems  of  history 
which  have  exercised  the  ingenuity  of  speculative 
minds,  there  are  few,  perhaps,  of  more  interest  to 
Americans  than  those  which  would  have  been  pre 
sented  if  some  of  the  things  that  might  have  hap- 


THE  JOURNALIST.  91 

pened,  and  seemed  likely  to  happen,  had  happened  ; 
if,  for  example,  Columbus  and  his  party  had  been 
lost  on  the  voyage  which  resulted  in  the  discovery 
of  America,  and  if  Milton,  Cromwell,  and  the  first 
Napoleon  had  executed  the  purpose,  which  each 
of  them  at  one  time  seriously  entertained,  of  seek 
ing  a  refuge  and  a  home  on  this  side  of  the  Atlan 
tic.  Of  scarcely  less  interest  would  it  be  to  his 
countrymen  to  be  able  to  divine  the  consequences 
had  Bryant's  wish  at  this  time  to  sell  his  paper 
and  emigrate  to  the  West  been  granted. 

Bryant  managed  in  a  few  years  to  retrieve  the 
ground  his  journal  had  lost  during  his  absence 
from  the  country,  and  from  that  time  his  paper, 
though  once  or  twice  threatened  with  disaster,  al 
ways  yielded  him  enough  to  give  him  peace  of 
mind.  Its  revenues  varied  considerably  at  differ 
ent  periods,  as  its  doctrines  happened  to  be  more  or 
less  in  accord  with  those  of  the  party  upon  which 
it  was  largely  dependent,  but  it  always  proved  a 
sure  reliance  for  his  needs,  and  occasionally  for 
something  more,  though  it  never  promised  him  afflu 
ence  until  he  had  reached  a  pretty  advanced  period 
of  life.  The  average  net  earnings  of  his  paper 
prior  to  1849  was  about  110,000  a  year,  of  which 
his  share  was  four  tenths.  Its  net  earnings  for  the 
year  1850  were  a  little  less  than  $16,000 ;  for  the 
year  1860  it  was  over  $70,000.  From  this  time 
forth,  I  think  it  may  be  stated  with  confidence  that 
Mr.  Bryant  experienced  no  privation  which  money 
could  relieve.  He  not  only  was  able  to  provide  for 


92  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

all  the  personal  needs  of  himself  and  family,  but 
he  had  the  chief  if  not  the  only  privilege  which 
makes  wealth  desirable,  of  ministering  to  the  wants 
of  others,  and  of  extending  substantial  encourage 
ment  to  those  institutions  of  public  beneficence 
which  specially  commended  themselves  to  his  taste 
and  judgment. 

We  are  all  of  us  disposed  at  some  stage,  if  not 
at  every  stage,  of  our  lives  to  complain  of  the 
burdens  we  are  required  to  carry,  and  of  the  diffi 
culties  with  which  we  have  to  struggle  like  Milton's 
lion,  "  to  get  free  our  hinder  parts."  Few,  how 
ever,  are  grateful,  or  at  least  as  grateful  as  they 
should  be,  for  the  discipline  and  the  training  which 
they  owe  to  these  trials,  and  through  which  they 
acquire  most  of  whatever  capacities  for  usefulness 
and  happiness  they  possess.  Longfellow,  during 
his  professional  life  at  Cambridge,  was  constantly 
groaning  over  the  drudgery  it  imposed,  and  fancying 
that  if  he  had  nothing  to  do,  he  would  do  a  great 
deal  more.  "  Pardon  me,  oh  ye  souls,"  he  wrote 
to  one  of  his  correspondents,  "  who,  seeing  edu 
cation  only  from  afar,  speak  of  it  in  such  glowing 
words.  You  see  only  the  great  pictures  hanging  in 
the  light ;  not  the  grinding  of  the  paint  and  the 
oil,  nor  the  pulling  of  hair  from  the  camel's  back 
for  the  brushes." 

Yet  both  of  these  gifted  bards  probably  lived  to 
realize  that  neither  would  have  attained  the  rank 
they  took,  even  as  poets,  not  to  say  men,  had  their 
lives  lacked  their  background  of  drudgery.  A  life 


TEE  JOURNALIST.  93 

of  pleasure, "  stretched  upon  the  rack  of  a  too  easy 
chair,"  is  of  all  lives  the  most  miserable.  There 
is  no  recreation  where  there  is  no  work.  The 
grinding  of  the  paints  may  seem  very  hateful  to  the 
enthusiastic  artist,  who  naturally  fancies  himself 
born  for  better  things.  But  Longfellow,  in  this 
allusion  to  a  sister  art,  seems  to  have  overlooked 
the  fact  that  the  most  renowned  painters  of  the 
world  not  only  ground  their  own  paints,  but  pre 
pared  their  own  canvases,  and  even  the  walls  which 
they  decorated  with  their  immortal  frescoes. 

Happily,  Bryant  was  saved  from  the  devices  of 
his  own  heart  and  the  vita  umbratilis  for  which 
in  his  short-sightedness  he  yearned,  and  he  lived 
to  realize  the  wisdom  so  quaintly  phrased  by 
Quarles :  — 

"  Mechanic  soul,  thou  must  not  only  do 
With  Martha,  but  with  Mary  ponder  too, 
Happy  the  house  where  these  two  sisters  vary, 
But  most,  when  Martha  's  reconciled  to  Mary." 

Among  the  rarest  things  to  find  in  all  literary 
history  are  men  who  have  succeeded  as  well  as  Bry 
ant  in  maintaining  a  conversancy  with  men  and 
affairs  without  entirely  losing  their  hold  of  the  con 
templative  life. 

Partly  from  sanitary  considerations,  but  more  to 
satisfy  his  craving  for  opportunities  of  indulging 
his  love  of  nature,  which  amounted  more  nearly 
than  anything  else  to  a  passion  with  him,  he  took 
advantage  of  the  first  surge  of  financial  prosperity 
that  overtook  him  to  secure  a  country  home.  In 


94  WILLIAM   CULLKN  BRYANT. 

1843,  he  found  on  Long  Island  a  place  entirely  to 
his  taste.  "  It  was  near  a  little  village  afterward 
called  Roslyn,  overlooking  an  estuary  of  the  Sound, 
—  such  a  nook  as  a  poet  might  well  choose,  both 
for  its  shady  seclusion  and  its  beautiful  prospects ; 
embowered  in  woods  that  covered  a  row  of  gentle 
hills,  and  catching  glimpses  of  a  vast  expanse  of 
water,  enlivened  in  the  distance  by  the  sails  of  a 
metropolitan  commerce.  The  estate  was  at  first 
confined  to  a  few -acres  only,  on  which  he  proposed 
erecting  a  house  according  to  his  taste,  but  he  was 
soon  enamored  of  a  house  already  erected  on  it, 
and  the  next  year  made  it  his  own.  It  was  an  old- 
fashioned  mansion,  built  by  a  plain  Quaker  in  1787, 
containing  many  spacious  rooms,  surrounded  by 
shrubberies  and  grand  trees,  and  communicating 
by  a  shelving  lawn  with  one  of  the  prettiest  of 
small  fresh-water  lakes."  j 

With  this  acquisition  life  bloomed  with  new 
charms  for  Bryant,  and  the  toils  of  his  profession 
were  at  last  "sweetened  to  his  taste."  Nothing 
more  was  heard  of  selling  the  "  Evening  Post," 
nor  of  a  new  home  in  the  wilderness.  For  the  re 
mainder  of  his  life,  from  early  spring  until  winter 
drove  him  to  his  city  residence,  he  rarely  spent  less 
than  two  or  three  days  of  every  week  at  his  lios- 
lyn  home.  Leaving  his  cares  behind  him  in  town, 
here  he  gave  himself  up  u  to  keeping  his  friend 
ships  in  repair,"  to  nursing  and  developing  all  the 
vital  energies  and  graces  of  his  garden  and  farm ; 
1  Godwin's  Life,  i.  408. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  95 

to  cultivating  a  most  intimate  acquaintance  with 
every  tree  and  flower  and  fruit  that  they  could  be 
encouraged  to  produce,  and  in  teaching  them  to 
become  to  his  neighbors  and  friends  the  prolific 
instruments  of  a  judicious  and  seasonable  benefi 
cence.  Here  it  was  his  delight  to  receive  his  old 
friends,  and  to  extend  an  unostentatious  but  wel 
come  hospitality  to  distinguished  strangers  who 
were  apt  to  think  that  "  seeing  the  States  "  neces 
sarily  included  a  visit  to  Roslyn. 

Partly  to  gratify  a  sentiment,  but  more  in  the 
hope  of  benefiting  Mrs.  Bryant's  health,  which 
already  had  become  the  subject  of  some  solicitude, 
in  1865  Bryant  became  the  proprietor  of  another 
country  seat.  Writing  to  an  English  correspond 
ent,  he  says :  "I  have  been  passing  a  few  weeks 
at  a  place  to  which  I  shall  return  in  a  day  or  two. 
I  mean  Cummington,  my  birthplace.  Here  I  have 
repossessed  myself  of  the  old  homestead  and  farm 
where  my  father  and  maternal  grandfather  lived, 
and  have  fitted  it  up  and  planted  a  screen  of  ever 
greens,  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  height,  back  of 
it  to  protect  it  from  the  northwest  winds,  —  though 
that  is  of  little  consequence  in  summer,  —  arid  here 
I  pass  several  weeks  in  the  warm  season.  The 
region  is  high,  —  nineteen  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea ;  the  summers  are  cool,  the  air  Swiss- 
like,  and  the  healthiness  of  the  country  remarka 
ble."  .  .  . 

His  private  letters  from  his  country  homes  all 
breathe  of  the  regenerating  atmosphere  in  which 


96  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

they  were  penned.  Those  who  only  knew  Bryant 
through  the  columns  of  his  journal  would  hardly 
recognize  his  pen  in  the  following  letter  to  his  ven 
erable  friend,  and  for  some  time  pastor,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Dewey. 

"NEW  YORK,  April  30,  1860. 

"'If  we  will  have  you,  doctor?  what  words 
have  passed  thy  lips  unweighed  ? '  If  the  earth 
will  have  the  spring,  —  if  the  sunflower  will  have 
sunshine,  —  if  the  flock  will  have  grass.  You 
might  as  well  put  an  'if  between  a  hungry  man 
and  his  dinner.  You  shall  come  to  Roslyn,  you 
and  your  Sultana,  and  shall  be  welcome,  and 
treated  en  rois.  If  I  were  writing  for  the  press 
I  should  not  say  4  en  rois,'  for  in  public  I  hold  it 
my  duty  to  maintain  on  all  occasions  the  suprem 
acy  and  sufficiency  of  the  English  language ;  but 
I  have  said  en  rois  because  it  came  into  my  head. 
Come  on  and  we  will  make  the  most  of  you 
both,  and  anybody  else  you  choose  to  bring  with 
you,  —  that  our  poor  means  allow.  You  shall 
not  be  walked  out  more  than  you  absolutely 
choose,  nor  asked  to  look  at  anything.  You  shall 
have  full  leave  to  bury  yourself  in  books,  or  write, 
or  think,  or  smoke  away  your  time,  and  I  will  make 
a  provision  of  cigars  for  your  idle  hours,  with  the 
prudent  toleration  which  the  innocent  have  for  the 
necessary  vices  of  others.  I  have  a  coachman,  and 
he  shall  take  you  about  the  country  whenever  you 
and  Mrs.  Dewey  take  a  fancy  for  a  ride.  And 
having  done  this,  I  will  neglect  you,  for  I  am  afraid 


THE  JOURNALIST.  97 

that  is  what  you  like,  to  your  heart's  content.  And 
then  if,  —  for  T,  too,  must  have  my  if,  —  if  you 
will  only  stay  over  Sunday,  you  shall  be  asked  to 
preach  by  our  orthodox  Presbyterian  minister,  who 
inquires  when  Dr.  Dewey  is  expected,  for  he  wants 
to  ask  him  to  preach.  Come,  then,  prepared  for  a 
ten  days'  sojourn,  with  a  stock  of  patience  in  your 
heart,  and  a  sermon  or  two  in  your  pocket,  of  your 
second  or  third  quality,  for  we  are  quite  plain  peo 
ple  here,  and  anything  very  fine  is  wasted  upon  us. 
"  For  any  imperfections  in  my  eulogy  on  Irving 
I  beg  you  to  consider  the  Historical  Society  as 
responsible  ;  they  put  it  upon  me  without  consulting 
me  ;  and  at  first  I  flatly  refused,  but  I  was  after 
ward  talked  into  consent.  Besides  the  excuses  of 
incapacity,  unworthiness,  and  all  that,  I  did  not 
want  the  labor  of  writing  the  discourse.  There  has 
been  no  end  of  work  with  me  the  past  winter.  .  .  . 
Among  other  symptoms  of  age,  I  find  a  disposition 
growing  up  within  me  to  regard  the  world  as  be 
longing  to  a  new  race  of  men,  who  have  somehow 
or  other  got  into  it,  and  taken  possession  of  it,  and 
among  whom  I  am  a  superfluity.  What  have  I  to 
do  with  their  quarrels  and  controversies  ?  I,  who 
am  already  proposed  as  a  member  of  the  same  club 
with  Daniel  Defoe  and  Sir  Eoger  L' Estrange.  Is 
it  fitting  that,  just  as  I  have  taken  my  hat  to  go  out 
and  join  the  Ptolemies,  I  should  be  plucked  by  the 
elbow  and  asked  to  read  a  copy  of  silly  verses,  and 
say  whether  they  are  fit  to  be  printed  ?  Besides,  it 
seems  to  be  agreed  by  everybody  who  is  about  my 


98  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

own  age,  or  older,  that  the  world  is  nowadays  much 
wickeder  than  when  they  were  young ;  and  it  is 
no  more  than  it  deserves  to  leave  it  to  take  care 
of  itself  as  it  can.  But  we  will  talk  over  these 
things  when  you  come." 

Again,  three  years  later,  he  pleads  for  another 
visit  from  his  reverend  friend,  written  in  a  yet 
more  frolicsome  not  to  say  rollicksome  mood :  — 

"  ROSLYN,  October  5,  1863. 

"  Looking  at  your  last  a  second  time,  it  strikes 
me  that  you  might,  perhaps,  expect  that  I  should 
answer  some  part  of  it.  Let  me  say,  then,  that 
we  will  give  you  a  reasonable  time  to  consider  the 
question  of  coming  to  Roslyn,  you  and  Mrs.  Dewey, 
if  you  will  only  come  at  last,  and  before  the  days 
arrive  described  in  the  verses  which  you  will  find 
on  the  other  leaf  of  this  sheet.  Mrs.  Kirkland 
says  she  will  come  when  you  do. 

"  The  season  wears  an  aspect  glum  and  glummer, 
The  icy  north  wind,  an  unwelcome  comer, 
Frighting1  from  garden-walks  each  pretty  hummer, 
Whose  murmuring  music  lulled  the  noons  of  summer, 
Roars  in  the  woods,  with  grummer  voice  and  grummer, 
And  thunders  in  the  forest  like  a  drummer. 
Dumb  are  the  birds,  —  they  could  not  well  be  dumber  ; 
The  winter-cold,  life's  pitiless  benumber, 
Bursts  water-pipes,  and  makes  us  call  the  plumber. 
Now,  by  the  fireside,  toils  the  patient  thumber 
Of  ancient  books,  and  no  less  patient  summer 
Of  long  accounts,  while  topers  fill  the  rummer, 
The  maiden  thinks  what  furs  will  best  become  her, 
And  on  the  stage-boards  shouts  the  gibing  mummer. 
Shut  in  by  storms,  the  dull  piano-strummer 
Murders  old  tunes.     There  's  nothing  wearisomer!  " 


THE  JOURNALIST.  99 

It  is  true  that  for  the  first  twenty  years  of  his 
editorial  career  Bryant  led  a  very  laborious  life, 
but  it  was  not  merely  love  of  the  quiet  and  leisure 
of  an  independent  planter,  nor  aversion  to  the  din 
and    distraction   of  the  city,  that  caused  him  to 
dream  of  exchanging  his  newspaper  for  a  farm  on 
the  prairies.     Hard  work  did  not  worry  him ;  on 
the  contrary,   during   all   this    period    his   health 
seemed  constantly  to  improve,  and  the  care  which 
he  took  of  it  was  so  judicious  that  he  was  always 
in  condition  for  literary  work  of  any  kind.     He 
seemed  to  have  no  moods  nor  seasons  when  literary 
labor  was  to  him  more  or  less  irksome   than   at 
other.     His  discontent  with  his  position  has  been 
and  will  always  be  the  common  experience  of  all 
who  attempt  to  impose  upon  their  neighbors  higher 
standards  of  duty  than  their  neighbors  are  pre 
pared  to  accept.     Those  paths  always  lead  to  Cal 
vary  and  the  Cross.    Bryant's  standards  were  very 
high.     His  editorial  work  was  chiefly  critical.     To 
find  fault  with  the  conduct  of  large  parties  and  of 
communities  is  never  a  gracious  task,  and  is  the  less 
gracious  the  more  it  is  deserved.     Bryant  was  so 
constituted    morally,    that   when    he    saw    public 
abuses,  especially  in  high  places,  he  could  not  hold 
his  peace.    He  felt  like  St.  Paul  that,  did  he  keep 
silence,  the  very  stones  would  cry  out.     He  was 
not  prone  to  calculate  the  consequences  of  publicly 
judging  the  rest  of  mankind  by  his  own  standards. 
He  was  once  heard  to  quote  in  extenuation  of  his 
course  the  following  majestic  passage  of  Milton  :  — 


100  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  It  is  manifest  with  what  small  willingness  I 
endure,  to  leave  calm  and  pleasing  solitariness,  to 
embark  upon  a  troublous  sea  of  noises  and  harsh 
disputes ;  put  from  beholding  the  bright  counte 
nance  of  Truth  in  the  quiet  of  delightful  studies  ; 
but  one  of  the  meanest  under  service,  if  God  by 
his  secretary,  conscience,  enjoined  it,  it  were  sad 
for  me  if  I  should  draw  back." 

The  duty  of  the  journalist  to  comment  some 
times  with  severity  upon  the  conduct  of  public  men, 
and  of  men  with  whom  he  entertains  or  has  enter 
tained  social  relations,  is  one  of  the  most  unpleas 
ant  that  his  profession  devolves  upon  him.  It 
tends  to  drive  him  from  public  resorts  and  make 
him  appear  unsocial.  It  had  these  effects  upon 
Bryant  during  the  most  active  portion  of  his  life 
as  a  journalist.  He  studied  to  so  manage  his  crit 
ical  function  as  to  create  the  least  possible  friction, 
and  was  wont  to  cite  to  his  editorial  associates  the 
example  of  Dr.  Bartlett,  the  editor  of  a  weekly 
paper  in  New  York,  especially  addressed  to  Eng 
lish  people,  called  u  The  Albion,"  who  made  it  a 
rule  "  never  to  write  anything  of  any  one  which 
would  make  it  unpleasant  to  meet  him  the  follow 
ing  day  at  dinner."  Though  Bryant  thought  well 
of  this  standard,  it  must  be  conceded  that  in  the 
discharge  of  what  he  esteemed  his  duty  as  a  jour 
nalist,  he  had  somewhat  reduced  the  number  of 
people  whom  it  would  have  been  pleasant  for  him 
or  them  to  meet  at  the  same  festive  board.  Chacun 
a  les  defauts  de  ses  vertus,  and  Mr.  Bryant  was 


THE  JOURNALIST.  101 

so  constituted  that  no  relations,  social,  political,  or 
literary,  could  induce  him  to  forget  that  in  his  edi 
torial  chair  he  was  the  trustee  of  the  public,  the 
sentinel  of  a  sleeping  army.  As  such  he  sometimes 
incurred  the  reproach  of  intolerance  and  unchari- 
tableness,  not  from  being  too  severe  in  his  condem 
nation  of  wrong,  but  in  his  judgments  of  those  to 
whom  such  wrongs  were  imputed,  no  one  but  the 
Master  knowing  the  extenuating  circumstances  of 
every  man's  misconduct. 

This  loyalty  to  his  profession  disinclined  him  to 
partake  of  the  hospitalities  of  those  whose  posi 
tions  before  the  public  were  liable  to  bring  them 
under  his  editorial  guns.  Hence  his  social  rela 
tions  through  life  were  mostlv  with  those  who  were 

O  f 

contented  with  the  honors  and  dignities  which 
could  be  acquired  and  enjoyed  in  private  stations. 
Outside  of  the  comparatively  restricted  number 
to  whom  his  standards  did  not  seem  chimerical,  he 
was  by  some  regarded  as  a  scold,  by  more  as  an 
impracticable  guide.  The  editor  of  the  "  Herald  " 
was  in  the  habit  of  referring  to  him  and  his  asso 
ciates  as  "  Ifee  Poets  of  the  Post."  Of  course, 
by  those  who  happened  to  be  directly  under  the 
shadow  of  his  frown,  he  was  regarded  as  an  enemy. 
He  heard  little  from  those  who  approved  of  and 
admired  his  work,  while  he  was  deafened  with  the 
clamor  of  those  whose  consciences  were  pricked, 
whose  vanity  was  wounded,  or  whose  schemes  were 
thwarted  by  his  denunciations.  It  seemed  to  him 
in  those  earlier  stages  of  his  journalistic  experience 


102  WILLIAM    CUILEN   BRYANT. 

that  he  was  rowing  against  a  strong  current,  with 
out  the  hope  of  any  assistance  of  wind  or  tide. 
Had  he  been  willing  simply  to  reflect  the  fads  and 
fancies  of  the  day,  had  he  been  able  to  permit  his 
paper  to  drift  with  the  tide,  he  might  probably 
have  found  his  employment  lucrative,  and  himself 
a  popular  favorite. 

Bryant's  friend  Dana  had  little  faith  in  the 
efficacy  of  his  methods  of  reforming  and  perfect 
ing  society,  and  was  constantly  urging  him  to 
stick  to  his  poetry.  He  said  to  him,  "  Keep 
eye  and  heart  upon  poetry  all  that  you  can,  amid 
bustle  and  anxiety.  As  to  reforming  the  world, 
give  all  that  up.  It  is  not  to  be  done  in  a  day, 
nor,  on  your  plan,  through  all  time.  Human  na 
ture  is  not  fitted  for  such  a  social  condition  as 
your  fancy  is  pleased  with." 

Dana  was  more  nearly  right  than  Bryant  then 
supposed  him  to  be,  but  far  less  nearly  right  than 
he  supposed  himself  to  be.  Bryant,  perhaps,  ex 
aggerated  the  importance  of  political  organizations, 
criticism,  and  debate  under  republican  institutions, 
overlooking  the  great  and  controlling  fact  that  in 
a  popular  government  the  laws  and  their  admin 
istration  will  always  fairly  express  the  average 
morality  and  intelligence  of  the  community  that 
makes  them,  and  that  the  only  way  to  secure  higher 
standards  of  legislation  and  administration  is  to 
elevate  the  average  of  the  morality  and  intelli 
gence  of  the  constituency.  In  saying,  therefore, 
that  the  world  was  not  to  be  reformed  on  Bryant's 


THE  JOURNALIST.  103 

plan,  Dana  was  perhaps  the  nearer  right  of  the 
two  ;  but  the  intimation  of  Dana  that  human  nature 
is  so  constituted  that  the  people  are  incapable  of 
improving  their  government,  and  that  they  should 
be  ruled  by  a  hereditary  or  dynastic  class,  like 
convicts  in  a  prison  or  a  chain-gang,  which  was 
practically  his  view,  was  yet  farther  from  the  truth, 
as  we  think  history  is  demonstrating.  Paul  fight 
ing  with  the  beasts  at  Ephesus,  Dana  must  have 
deemed  a  mistake,  a  waste  of  energy,  resurrection 
or  no  resurrection. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  in  republics  the  govern 
ment  can  only  be  improved  substantially  by  rais 
ing  the  moral  standard  of  the  people.  While  not 
undervaluing  nor  neglecting  ethical  teaching,  Mr. 
Bryant,  in  common  with  most  men  having  to  deal 
with  public  questions,  expected  more  from  political 
organizations  and  combinations  than  was  to  be 
realized  from  them,  while  later  in  life  he  became 
aware  that  governments  like  clocks  would  run 
down  as  they  were  wound  up  ;  that  they  are  re 
sultant  forces,  the  directions  of  which  are  more  or 
less  affected  by  each  individual  member  of  the  so 
ciety  for  which  it  is  constituted,  and  that  the  gov 
ernment  which  remains  after  we  have  done  what 
we  think  best  in  our  respective  spheres  is,  on  the 
whole,  the  government  best  suited  for  its  constit 
uency. 

Though  Bryant  never  consciously  gave  up  to 
party  what  was  meant  for  mankind,  he  was,  never 
theless,  in  every  proper  sense  of  the  word,  a  party 


104  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

man.  While  recognizing  every  man's  primary 
responsibility  to  his  own  conscience,  he  did  not 
pretend  to  think  anybody  wiser  than  everybody. 
In  dealing,  therefore,  with  all  public  questions  he 
recognized  fully  the  importance  of  combination. 
He  as  freely  criticised  the  conduct  of  his  own 
party  as  of  any  other,  but  he  never  broke  with  it 
unless  and  until  it  was  convicted  of  subordinating 

O 

the  greater  to  the  lesser  interests  of  society.  While 
its  main  tendencies  were  right,  he  submitted  to  its 
errors  of  detail.  He  broke  with  the  Democratic 
party  in  1848,  refusing  to  support  the  candidature 
of  General  Cass  for  President;  but  not  because 
of  anything  in  the  public  life  of  General  Cass 
which  he  did  not  admire,  nor  of  much  in  the  res 
olutions  of  the  Convention  which  nominated  him, 
which  he  frankly  denounced,  but  because  the  Dem 
ocratic  party  of  the  State  in  which  he  resided  was 
not  represented  in  the  Convention  by  which  Cass 
had  been  nominated.  He  insisted  that  the  State 
of  New  York  was  entitled  to  a  voice  in  the  selec 
tion  of  a  candidate  for  its  support,  and  he  was  the 
less  disposed  to  put  up  with  her  practical  exclusion 
from  the  Convention  because  it  was  effected  in  the 
interests  and  at  the  behests  of  the  partisans  of 
slavery.  With  Cass's  defeat  he  resumed  his  rela 
tions  with  his  party,  supporting  all  succeeding 
Democratic  candidates  until  the  nomination  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  in  I860.1 

1  Writing1  to  one  of  his  brothers  shortly  after  the  nomination  of 
Franklin  Pierce  to  the  Presidency  by  the  Democratic  party,  and 


THE  JOURNALIST.  105 

The  Democratic  party  at  this  election  was  di 
vided  by  the  slavery  question,  and  presented  two 

John  P.  Hale  by  the  Abolitionists,  he  vindicated  his  support  of 
the  former  in  the  following  terms  :  — 

"  The  Free-Soil  Party  is  now  doing1  nothing1.  Its  representa 
tives  in  Congress  have  wasted  their  time  till  all  chance  of  repeal 
ing  or  modifying  the  fugitive  slave  law  is  gone  by,  if  there  ever 
was  any.  They  have  left  everything  to  be  done  by  the  journals. 
Now,  at  the  end  of  the  session,  when  it  is  too  late  for  serious  de 
bate,  Sumner  gets  up  and  wants  to  make  a  speech.  They  refuse 
to  consider  his  resolution,  as  might  have  been  expected.  He 
might  have  stated  the  subject  a  score  of  times  in  the  early  part 
of  the  session.  The  whole  conduct  of  the  public  men  of  the 
party  has  been  much  of  a  piece  with  this.  What  is  the  use  of 
preserving  a  separate  organization  if  such  be  its  fruits  ?  But,  as 
I  intimated,  I  see  not  the  least  chance  of  a  repeal  or  change  of 
the  fugitive  slave  law.  Its  fate  is  to  fall  into  disuse.  All  politi 
cal  organizations  to  procure  its  repeal  are  attempts  at  an  im 
practicability.  We  must  make  it  odious,  and  prevent  it  from 
being  enforced.  That  the  Evening  Post  can  do,  in  a  certain 
measure,  just  as  effectively  by  supporting  Pierce  as  Hale.  Nay, 
it  can  do  it  far  more  effectually.  A  journal  belonging  to  a  large 
party  has  infinitely  more  influence  than  when  it  is  the  organ  of  a 
small  conclave.  In  speaking  against  slavery,  the  Evening  Post 
expresses  the  opinions  of  a  large  number  of  people  ;  in  exhort 
ing  them  to  vote  for  Mr.  Hale  it  expresses  the  opinions  of  few. 
The  Free-Soil  members  of  Congress  —  Male  and  Sumner,  and 
many  others  —  are  not  more  than  half  right  on  various  important 
questions.  Freedom  of  trade  is  not  by  any  means  a  firmly  estab 
lished  policy  in  this  country.  I  do  not  know  where  these  men 
are  on  that  question.  They  vote  away  the  public  money  into  the 
pockets  of  the  Hunkers,  —  Collins,  for  example.  The  only  cer 
tainty  we  have  of  safety  in  regard  to  these  matters  is  in  a  Demo 
cratic  administration. 

"  These  are  some  of  my  reasons  for  supporting  Pierce.  I  think 
the  slavery  question  an  important  one,  but  I  do  not  see  what  is  to 
be  done  for  the  cause  of  freedom  by  declining  to  vote  for  the 
Democratic  candidate. 

•"We  of  New  York  —  the  Democrats  of  the  State,  I  mean  — 


106  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

candidates  ;  neither,  however,  opposed  to  the  exten 
sion  of  slavery  into  the  free  Territories,  upon  which 
point  he  was  inexorable.  The  Kepublican  party, 
which  had  been  organized  during  the  interval 
from  the  anti-slavery  elements  of  both  the  old  par 
ties  for  the  purpose  mainly  of  resisting  such  ex 
tension,  presented  Abraham  Lincoln  as  its  candi 
date.  As  the  triumph  of  either  of  the  Democratic 
candidates  would  have  practically  resulted  in  dis 
puting  the  right  of  the  majority  to  rule,  and  in 
the  subversion  of  the  principles  upon  which  our 
government  was  founded  and  upon  which  only  it 
could  hope  to  subsist,  Mr.  Bryant  supported  the 
Republican  candidate. 

These  are,  I  believe,  the  only  instances  in  his 
long  career  as  a  journalist  in  which  he  did  not  find 
it  wise  and  expedient  to  put  up  with  the  evils  of 

will  contend  for  the  measures  and  principles  we  think  right,  let 
what  will  come  of  it.  No  man  pledged  against  the  prohibition 
of  slavery  in  the  Territories,  or  supposed  to  be  hostile  to  it,  will 
be  able  to  get  the  vote  of  the  State  of  New  York.  Any  separate 
organization,  however,  would  come  to  nothing.  All  parties 
formed  for  a  single  measure  are  necessarily  short-lived,  and  are 
as  much  subject  to  the  abuses  and  vices  of  party  as  any  other  —  I 
have  sometimes  thought  more  so.  I  never  mean  to  belong  to  any 
of  them  unless  I  see  some  very  strong  and  compelling  reason  for 
it.  The  journalist  who  goes  into  one  of  these  narrow  associations 
gains  by  it  no  increase  of  independence  in  discussion,  while  he 
parts  with  the  greater  part  of  his  influence.  As  to  the  influence 
of  the  administration,  it  is  at  this  moment  very  insignificant  in 
New  York.  It  is  strongest  in  the  city,  where  the  government 
patronage  is  greatest ;  but  even  here  it  is  extremely  feeble,  and 
in  the  country  it  hardly  exists.  We  are  awaiting,  as  you  see,  what 
will  grow  out  of  the  present  state  of  things  with  no  very  san 
guine  hopes,  and  very  indefinite  notions  of  what  the  event  will  be." 


THE  JOURNALIST.  107 

the  party  in  which  he  had  enrolled  himself,  rather 
than  fly  to  evils  he  knew  not  of  in  other  organiza 
tions.  Had  he  not  ceased  to  take  much  interest  in 
public  affairs,  and  to  participate  in  the  active 
management  of  his  paper,  it  is  not  unlikely  that 
he  would  have  broken  with  the  Republican  party 
during  the  later  years  of  President  Grant's  admin 
istration,  with  which  he  was  extremely  dissatisfied. 
Though  his  paper  rendered  a  perfunctory  sup 
port  to  the  Republican  candidate  of  1876,  we  feel 
authorized  to  affirm  that  he  did  not  vote  for  him. 

In  dealing  with  facts,  Mr.  Bryant  was  not  only 
conscientious,  but  cautious.  In  the  whole  of  his 
long  career  he  was  rarely  called  upon  to  defend 
any  statement  of  fact,  or  to  qualify  it.  Though 
endowed  by  nature  with  a  violent  temper,  he  was 
singularly  temperate  in  debate.  He  had  a  refined 
humor,  and,  when  occasion  required,  was  master  of 
a  scathing  satire,  but  he  was  never  tempted  to  in 
dulge  in  either  at  the  expense  of  his  own  dignity 
or  that  of  the  subject  he  might  be  treating.  From 
his  editorials  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  extract 
some  of  the  finest  specimens  of  prose  in  our  lan 
guage,  but  unhappily  they  are  so  woven  into  the 
texture  of  events  of  transitory  importance,  and  for 
the  most  part  long  since  forgotten,  that  their  fame, 
which  in  their  day  was  not  limited  by  the  bounds 
of  the  country  to  which  they  were  addressed,  can 
hardly  be  expected  to  survive  another  generation. 

The  degree  and  kind  of  influence  exerted  by 
Mr.  Bryant,  or,  indeed,  by  any  other  journalist 


108  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

upon  human  society,  can  only  be  properly  appre 
ciated  by  contemporary  readers,  for  the  reason 
that  the  work  of  the  journalist  never  culminates 
in  results  which  are  traceable  to  their  proper 
parentage.  The  soldier  wins  a  battle,  the  lawyer 
wins  his  case,  the  statesman  by  his  wisdom  or  his 
eloquence  brings  a  nation  to  his  feet,  the  philan 
thropist  founds  a  durable  public  charity,  the  artist 
produces  a  masterpiece.  In  these  results  the  toil 
and  study  of  years  are  made  intelligible  and  im 
pressive.  They  not  only  address  the  imagination, 
but  from  what  we  see  we  are  enabled  to  form  a 
tolerably  definite  idea  of  the  power  required  to 
achieve  them.  The  work  of  a  journalist  offers  no 
such  appeal  to  the  imagination.  Like  the  sun 
upon  the  vegetation  of  our  planet,  the  journalist 
leaves  an  impression  upon  the  minds  of  many 
thousands  every  day,  but,  unlike  the  sun,  these 
successive  daily  impressions  do  not  culminate  in  a 
harvest.  The  world  little  recks  their  influence, 
dispensed  like  the  familiar  and  unnoticed  alterna 
tions  of  day  and  night,  in  shaping  the  thought  and 
in  building  up  the  dignity,  power,  and  resources  of 
the  nation. 

Though,  as  has  been  already  remarked,  Bryant 
was  not  a  man  of  moods  and  tenses,  but  owing  to 
the  regularity  and  simplicity  of  his  life  and  his 
wise  control  of  all  his  appetites  was  always  in  con 
dition  for  any  kind  of  intellectual  exertion,  he  was 
not  without  some  of  the  eccentricities  of  genius. 
He  never  liked  to  write  for  his  journal  except  at 


THE  JOURNALIST.  109 

his  desk  in  his  office.  It  cost  him  a  special  effort 
to  do  any  work  for  the  paper  elsewhere,  and  it  is 
hardly  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  he  never  wrote 
for  the  paper  at  his  home.  When  the  semi-cen 
tennial  anniversary  of  the  "  Evening  Post "  was 
approaching,  it  was  proposed  to  him  to  prepare  for 
its  columns  a  sketch  of  its  career.  He  cheerfully 
accepted  the  task,  and  in  order  that  he  might  be 
free  from  interruption  he  was  advised  to  go  down 
to  his  country-home  at  Roslyn  and  remain  there 
until  it  was  finished,  and  have  such  of  the  files  of 
the  paper  as  he  might  have  occasion  to  consult 
sent  to  him  there.  He  rejected  the  proposal  as 
abruptly  as  if  he  had  been  asked  to  offer  sacrifices 
to  Apollo.  He  would  allow  no  such  work  to  follow 
him  there.  Not  even  the  shadow  of  his  business 
must  fall  upon  the  consecrated  haunts  of  his  muse. 
He  rarely  brought  or  sent  anything  from  the  coun 
try  for  the  "  Evening  Post ;  "  but  if  he  did,  it  was 
easy  to  detect  in  the  character  of  the  fish  that  they 
had  been  caught  in  strange  waters.  This  separa 
tion  of  his  professional  from  his  poetical  life  must 
be  taken  into  account  in  any  effort  to  explain  the 
uniform  esteem  in  which  he  was  always  held  as  a 
poet  by  his  country  people,  while  occasionally  one 
of  the  least  popular  of  journalists.1  Bryant's  office 
desk  was  his  newspaper  Egeria.  It  was  also  a  curi 
osity.  Except  for  a  space  immediately  in  front  of 

1  For  a  copy  of  this  paper,  which  abounds  in  interesting1  me 
morials  of  one  of  the  oldest  journals  in  the  country,  see  Appen 
dix  A. 


110  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

him  about  two  feet  long  and  eighteen  inches  deep, 
his  desk  was  usually  covered  to  the  depth  of  from 
twelve  to  twenty  inches  with  opened  letters,  manu 
script,  pamphlets,  and  books,  the  accumulation  of 
years.  During  his  absence  in  Europe  in  1859-60, 
his  associate  thought  to  do  Bryant  a  good  turn  by 
getting  rid  of  this  rubbish  and  clearing  his  table 
so  that  he  should  have  room  for  at  least  one  of  his 
elbows  on  the  table.  When  he  returned  and  saw 
what  had  been  done,  it  was  manifest  from  his  ex 
pression  —  he  said  nothing  —  that  what  had  been 
so  kindly  intended  was  regarded  as  anything  but 
a  kindness.  He  had  also  one  habit  in  common 
with  Pope,1  of  always  writing  his  "  copy  "  for  the 
paper  on  the  backs  of  these  old  letters  and  re 
jected  MSS.  One  who  was  associated  with  him  for 
many  years  in  the  management  of  the  "  Evening 
Post  "  affirms  that  he  never  knew  Bryant  to  write 
an  article  for  its  columns  on  a  fresh  sheet  of  paper. 
He  also  used  a  quill  pen,  which  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  mending  with  a  knife  nearly  as  old  as  himself, 
and  which  might  originally  have  cost  him  fifty 
cents.  He  has  been  heard  to  speak  of  this  knife 
with  affection,  and  to  resent  the  suggestion  that  he 
should  replace  it  with  a  better  one.  Every  year 
had  added  a  value  to  it  which  no  new  knife  could 
possibly  have  in  his  eyes.  The  same  attachment 
to  old  servants  made  him  hold  on  to  a  blue  cotton 

1  "Paper-sparing-  Pope"  was  an  epithet  bestowed  by  Swift 
upon  the  poet.  A  great  part  of  his  version  of  the  Iliad  was  writ 
ten  upon  the  backs  of  letters. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  Ill 

umbrella  which  had  very  little  to  commend  it 
either  in  fair  weather  or  foul  but  its  age.  The 
ladies  of  his  household  at  last,  and  when  he  was 
about  setting  out  for  Mexico,  conspired  against 
the  umbrella,  hid  it  away,  and  in  its  place  packed 
a  nice  new  silk  one.  He  discovered  the  fraud  that 
had  been  practiced  upon  him,  turned  his  back 
upon  the  parvenu,  and  insisted  upon  the  restora 
tion  of  his  old  and  injured  friend  to  its  accustomed 
post  of  honor  by  his  side.  To  him  age  made 
everything  sacred  but  abuses.  He  petted  the  old 
brutes  of  his  barnyard  and  stables,  and  held  to 
his  old  friends  with  hooks  of  steel,  closing  his  eyes 
resolutely  to  everything  about  them  which  he  could 
not  admire.  When  his  friends  Verplanck  and  Til- 
den  deprecated  the  nomination  of  Lincoln  to  the 
Presidency  and  opposed  his  election,  preferring  to 
leave  the  slavery  problem  to  the  sagacious  minis 
trations  of  time,  much  as  he  regretted  their  course, 
and  frankly  as  he  denounced  it,  he  never  permitted 
it  for  one  moment  to  disturb  their  friendly  rela 
tions,  or  to  interrupt  their  mutual  confidences.  He 
knew  —  no  one  better  —  that  our  affections  are 
the  growth  of  what  in  us  is  permanent,  our  opin 
ions,  of  what  is  more  or  less  changeable  and  tran 
sient. 

History  teaches  nothing  more  persistently  than 
the  demoralizing  influences  which  beset  the  possess 
ors  of  extraordinary  power,  and  she  has  preserved 
to  us  the  names  of  very  few  who  have  been  able  to 
resist  them.  The  enormous  power  wielded  by  the 


112  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

director  of  a  free  press  who  is  in  a  position  daily 
to  address  thousands,  and  perhaps  hundreds  of 
thousands,  most  of  whom  are  but  imperfectly  qual 
ified  to  test  the  value  of  his  opinions,  is  very  in 
toxicating.  It  is  especially  so  to  the  junior  mem 
bers  of  the  profession  who  have  not  previously 
been  accustomed  to  any  special  deference  for  their 
utterances.  The  privilege  of  saying  what  one 
pleases,  of  whom  one  pleases,  when  and  as  often  as 
one  pleases  ;  to  discipline  a  president  or  a  cabinet 
minister  as  if  he  were  a  school-boy  or  a  culprit ;  to 
sneer  at  foreign  sovereigns ;  to  make  or  mar  the 
fortunes  of  a  new  book  or  play ;  to  "  boom "  or 
bankrupt  a  struggling  corporation ;  to  trifle  with 
the  character  of  eminent  citizens,  or  with  the 
peace  of  a  social  or  domestic  circle,  is  one  which 
few  can  possess  without  abusing,  nor  without  grad 
ually  getting  to  underestimate  the  rights  and 
judgments  of  others,  and  to  overestimate  their  own. 
Arrogance,  conceit,  rashness,  and  self-sufficiency 
are  the  infirmities  to  which  the  profession  of  jour 
nalism  is  most  exposed,  and  which  only  the  array 
of  the  higher  qualities  of  human  character  can  suc 
cessfully  resist. 

It  is  no  mean  evidence  of  the  solid  foundations 
upon  which  Bryant's  moral  character  was  erected 
that  he  never  betrayed  under  any  temptations  or 
provocations  the  intoxicating  influence  of  news 
paper  despotism.  No  one  could  ever  detect  a 
purely  personal  end  to  serve,  a  personal  griev 
ance  to  avenge,  a  personal  ambition  or  vanity  to  be 


THE  JOURNALIST.  113 

gratified,  in  any  line  that  he  ever  wrote  for  his 
journal. 

If  he  had  occasion  to  defend  himself,  his  defense 
was  sure  to  repose  on  public  not  on  personal 
grounds.  He  regarded  himself  strictly  as  a  trustee 
for  the  public,  and  bound  to  consecrate  all  the 
forces  and  influences  of  his  paper  to  the  public 
use.  Hence,  though  an  alert  and  aggressive  com 
batant,  and  by  his  literary  and  moral  eminence 
sure  to  give  more  or  less  of  dignity  and  conse 
quence  to  any  assailant,  it  was  not  possible  to  en 
gage  him  in  a  personal  controversy,  unless  public 
considerations  were  involved,  and  then  they  were 
always  placed  in  the  front  of  the  battle.  In  this 
respect,  also,  he  was  in  his  day  an  exceptional  as 
well  as  a  model  journalist. 

"  In  his  intercourse  with  his  colaborers  and  subordi 
nates,"  wrote  Mr.  Godwin  who  was  for  many  years  his 
associate  in  the  "Evening  Post,"  "the  impression  pro 
duced  by  Mr.  Bryant,  after  a  certain  reticence,  which 
diffused  an  atmosphere  of  coldness  about  him,  was 
broken  through,  was  that  of  his  extreme  simplicity  and 
sincerity  of  character.  He  was  as  transparent  as  the 
day,  as  guileless  as  a  child,  and  as  clear  in  his  integrity 
as  the  crystal  that  has  no  flaw  nor  crack.  His  love  of 
truth  was  so  instinctive  and  controlling  that  he  seldom 
indulged  in  an  indirection  of  speech  except  in  the  in 
dulgence  of  his  wit,  which  often  flashed  like  summer 
lightning  through  the  dark  clouds  of  debate.  He  used 
no  polite  terms  merely  because  they  were  polite,  a  plain, 
uncompromising  adherence  to  the  letter  of  his  phrase 


114  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

seeming  to  him  better  than  the  most  courtly  affectation. 
As  he  tried  to  see  all  things  as  they  were  in  their  real 
relations  to  each  other,  so  he  tried  to  convey  his  percep 
tion  and  feeling  of  them  to  others  as  they  were.  That 
exquisite  fidelity  to  nature  which  forms  one  of  the 
charms  of  his  poetry  pervaded  his  life  and  his  utterances. 
No  amount  of  adulation  or  flattery  —  and  these  were 
sometimes  heaped  upon  him  in  unmeasured  terms  to 
ward  the  latter  part  of  his  career  —  ever  disturbed  his 
modest  estimate  of  himself,  or  misled  him  into  vanity  or 
presumption.  To  those  who  stood  near  him  there  was 
always  something  sublime  in  the  severe  yet  single- 
hearted  and  unassuming  simplicity  of  his  bearing. 
Sensitive,  as  men  of  poetical  temperament  are  apt  to  be, 
his  command  of  his  irritabilities  and  passions  was  so 
complete  that  he  breathed  an  air  perpetually  serene  and 
bright."  x 

It  is  possible  that  his  power  as  a  journalist 
might  have  been  increased  by  a  larger  intercourse 
with  the  world.  During  the  most  active  stages 
of  his  professional  career  he  saw  comparatively 
few  people,  save  those  who  sought  him  at  his 
office,  and  these  consisted  largely,  of  course,  of 
those  who  had  personal  ends  to  serve  by  the  visit. 
This  isolation  made  it  so  much  easier  for  designing 
men  to  disguise  the  antipathies,  prejudices,  and 
selfishness  which  often  prompted  their  suggestions. 
A  larger  commerce  with  the  world  would  have  rec 
tified  erroneous  impressions  sometimes  left  upon 

1  Letter  addressed  to  the  Evening  Post  from  Carlsbad,  Ger 
many,  June  15,  1878. 


THE  JOURNALIST.  115 

his  mind  by  this  class  of  parasites,  who  usually 
approached  him  on  the  moral  side  of  his  nature, 
because  it  was  the  most  impressionable. 

Though  accustomed  daily  for  more  than  half  a 
century  to  discuss  professionally  the  doings  of  our 
federal  and  state  governments,  he  was  never  at 
Washington  before  the  war,  I  believe,  but  once, 
except  as  a  traveler  passing  through  to  some  re 
moter  point.  He  was  once  urged  to  visit  the  fed 
eral  capital  during  an  important  crisis  in  our 
struggle  for  free  labor  and  free  speech.  He  de 
clined,  assigning  as  a  reason  that  he  had  been 
there  once,  —  I  think  it  was  during  the  adminis 
tration  of  President  Van  Buren,  —  and  found  that 
he  was  more  content  with  the  judgment  he  formed 
in  his  office  of  the  doings  at  the  seat  of  govern 
ment  than  with  any  he  was  able  to  form  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Capitol.  Once  also  during  a 
critical  period  of  the  war  he  yielded  reluctantly  to 
the  importunities  of  some  friends,  and  went  to 
Washington  to  urge  a  more  vigorous  prosecution 
of  the  war  and  the  immediate  emancipation  of  the 
slaves.  He  shrank  too  from  the  restraints  which 
personal  intercourse  with  the  public  servants  im 
posed  upon  the  freedom  of  his  pen.  According  to 
his  view,  a  journalist  did  less  than  his  duty  who 
did  not  strive  at  least  to  leave  the  world  better 
than  he  found  it ;  who  did  not  wrestle  with  those 
social  and  political  abuses  which  are  amenable  to 
public  opinion.  The  reform  of  society,  as  he 
thought,  like  Mahomed's  paradise,  lies  in  the 


116  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

shadow  of  crossed  swords.  Controversy,  therefore, 
always  earnest  and  sometimes  acrimonious  with 
those  whom  he  regarded  as  the  Amorites,  the 
Hivites,  and  the  Perizzites  of  the  land,  was  inev 
itable.  With  them  he  made  no  terms.  He  had 
no  personal  antagonisms,  but  he  could  not  compro 
mise  or  transact  with  those  whom  he  regarded  as 
the  enemies  of  society. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   POET. 

As  a  poet,  Bryant  is  to  be  judged  by  the  quality 
rather  than  the  quantity  of  his  work.  The  sum  of 
all  his  verse  that  he  thought  worth  preserving  did 
not  exceed  thirteen  thousand  lines.  Of  these, 
about  one  third  were  written  before  1829.  The 
double  task  of  mastering  his  new  profession  and 
that  of  discharging  its  duties  pretty  effectually 
absorbed  his  time  and  thoughts  for  several  of  the 
succeeding  years.  He  wrote  but  thirty  lines  in 
1830,  but  sixty  in  1831.  In  1832,  he  wrote  two 
hundred  and  twenty-two.  It  does  not  appear  that 
he  wrote  any  in  1833.  In  the  ten  years  imme 
diately  succeeding  1829,  he  seems  to  have  produced 
only  eleven  hundred  and  thirty-seven  lines,  or  a 
trifle  over  one  hundred  lines  a  year.  But  though 
he  produced  comparatively  little  during  this  dec 
ade,  he  did  not  suffer  the  waters  of  "  livid  ob 
livion  "  to  roll  over  him. 

In  1831,  he  published  a  volume  containing  about 
eighty  of  his  poems,  in  addition  to  those  which  had 
appeared  in  the  pamphlet  collection  in  1821.  He 
was  induced  to  try  the  fortunes  of  this  little  vol 
ume  by  more  impartial  and  less  indulgent  tests 


118  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

than  those  to  which  his  verse  had  hitherto  been 
subjected. 

A  friend  had  shown  him  a  letter  written  by 
Washington  Irving,  from  Madrid,  in  which  oc 
curred  the  following  passage  :  — 

"  I  have  been  charmed  with  what  I  have  seen  of  the 
writing  of  Bryant  and  Halleck.  Are  you  acquainted 
with  them  ?  I  should  like  to  know  something  about 
them  personally ;  their  view  of  thinking  is  quite  above 
that  of  ordinary  men  and  ordinary  poets,  and  they  are 
masters  of  the  magic  of  poetic  language." 

Encouraged  if  not  determined  by  these  words  of 
commendation  from  such  a  competent  authority, 
Mr.  Bryant  sent  a  copy  of  his  volume  to  Murray 
in  London,  and  at  the  same  time  addressed  the 
following  note  to  Irving  :  — 

"  Sm,  —  I  have  put  to  press  in  this  city  a  duo 
decimo  volume  of  two  hundred  and  forty  pages, 
comprising  all  my  poems  which  I  thought  worth 
printing,  most  of  which  have  already  appeared. 
Several  of  them  I  believe  you  have  seen,  and  of 
some,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  you  have  been 
pleased  to  express  a  favorable  opinion.  Before 
publishing  the  thing  here,  I  have  sent  a  copy  of  it 
to  Murray,  the  London  bookseller,  by  whom  I  am 
anxious  that  it  should  be  published  in  England. 
I  have  taken  the  liberty,  which  I  hope  you  will 
pardon  a  countryman  of  yours,  who  relies  on  the 
known  kindness  of  your  disposition  to  plead  his 
excuse,  of  referring  him  to  you.  As  it  is  not  alto 
gether  impossible  that  the  work  might  be  repub- 


THE  POET.  119 

lished  in  England,  if  I  did  not  offer  it  myself,  I 
could  wish  that  it  might  be  published  by  a  respect 
able  bookseller  in  a  respectable  manner. 

"  I  have  written  to  Mr.  Verplanck  desiring  him 
to  give  me  a  letter  to  you  on  the  subject,  but  as  the 
packet  which  takes  out  my  book  will  sail  before  I 
can  receive  an  answer  I  have  presumed  so  far  on 
your  goodness  as  to  make  the  application  myself. 
May  I  ask  of  you  the  favor  to  write  to  Mr.  Mur 
ray  on  the  subject  as  soon  as  you  receive  this  ?  In 
my  letter  to  him  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  terms, 
which,  of  course,  will  depend  upon  circumstances 
which  I  may  not  know  or  of  which  I  cannot  judge. 
I  should  be  glad  to  receive  something  for  the 
work,  but  if  he  does  not  think  it  worth  while  to 
give  anything,  I  had  rather  he  should  take  it  for 
nothing  than  that  it  should  not  be  published  by  a 
respectable  publisher. 

"  I  must  again  beg  you  to  excuse  the  freedom  I 
have  taken.  I  have  no  personal  acquaintance  in 
England  whom  I  could  ask  to  do  what  I  have  ven 
tured  to  request  of  you  ;  and  I  know  of  no  person 
to  whom  I  could  prefer  the  request  with  greater 
certainty  that  it  will  be  kindly  entertained. 

"  I  am,  sir, 

With  sentiments  of  the  highest  respect, 
Your  obedient  and  humble  servant, 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  P.  S.  —  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  accompany 
this  letter  with  a  copy  of  the  work." 

Bryant  received  the  following  reply  from  Mr. 


120  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Irving,  dated  at  Byron's  former  home,  Newstead 
Abbey,  January  26,  1832  :  — 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  feel  very  much  ohliged  to  you  for 
the  volume  you  have  had  the  kindness  to  send  me,  and 
am  delighted  to  have  in  my  possession  a  collection  of 
your  poems,  which,  separately,  I  have  so  highly  admired. 
It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  be  instrumental 
in  bringing  before  the  British  public  a  volume  so  honor 
able  to  our  national  literature.  When  I  return  to  Lon 
don,  which  will  be  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  I  will 
ascertain  whether  any  arrangement  can  be  effected  by 
which  some  pecuniary  advantage  can  be  secured  to  you. 
On  this  head  I  am  not  very  sanguine.  The  book  trade 
is  at  present  in  a  miserably  depressed  state  in  England, 
and  the  publishers  have  become  shy  and  parsimonious. 
Besides,  they  will  not  be  disposed  to  offer  you  anything 
for  a  work  in  print  for  which  they  cannot  secure  a  copy 
right.  I  am  sorry  you  sent  the  work  to  Murray,  who 
has  disappointed  me  grievously  in  respect  to  other 
American  works  intrusted  to  him  ;  and  who  has  acted 
so  unjustly  in  recent  transactions  with  myself  as  to  im 
pede  my  own  literary  arrangements,  and  oblige  me  to 
look  around  for  some  other  publisher.  I  shall,  however, 
write  to  him  about  your  work,  and  if  he  does  not  imme 
diately  undertake  it,  will  look  elsewhere  for  a  favorable 
channel  of  publication. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  sir, 

With  the  highest  consideration, 
Very  truly  yours, 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Within  a  week  from  the  date  of  this  letter  Mr. 
Irving  received  the  following  note  from  Murray  :  — 


THE  POET.  121 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  received  Mr.  Bryant's  poems  yes 
terday,  and  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  it  is  quite  out  of 
Mr.  Murray's  power  to  do  anything  for  him,  or  with 
them.  I  send  the  volume  to  you  in  compliance  with 
your  request. 

I  am,  dear  sir, 

Yours  very  truly, 

J.  MURRAY,  JR. 

It  seems  to  us  now  as  if  this  reply  or  retort, 
whichever  it  was,  might  have  been  more  courteous. 
How  far  its  tenor  was  influenced  by  the  quality  of 
the  poetry,  how  far  by  a  national  prejudice  at  that 
time  more  or  less  prevalent  against  anything  Amer 
ican,  and  how  far  by  the  strained  relations  that 
chanced  then  to  exist  between  the  publisher  and  the 
sponsor  of  the  poems,  are  questions  which  it  is  im 
possible  and  now,  happily,  unimportant  to  deter 
mine.  As  a  publisher  and  man  of  business,  Mr. 
Murray  probably  was  not  at  fault  in  declining  the 
poems.  For  a  variety  of  reasons,  none  of  which, 
I  venture  to  think,  go  to  their  merits,  Bryant's 
poetry  has  never  touched  a  very  sympathetic  chord 
in  England.1 

Mr.  Irving,  however,  was  not  discouraged  by  the 
repulse  of  Murray,  and  soon  made  arrangements 
with  another  Jiouse,  and  thus  announced  the  suc 
cess  of  his  negotiations  on  the  6th  of  March  :  — 

1  A  curious  illustration  of  the  lack  of  esteem  for  Bryant's 
poetry  in  England,  and  prevailing  ignorance  there  of  his  life- 
work  as  a  journalist,  may  be  found  in  the  recent  edition  of  the 
Encyclopedia  Britannica,  which  has  found  no  place  in  its  Wal- 
halla  for  the  name  of  William  Cullen  Bryant. 


122  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  send  you  a  copy  of  the  second 
edition  of  your  work,  published  this  day.  You  will 
perceive  that  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  putting  my 
name  as  editor,  and  of  dedicating  the  work  to  Mr. 
Rogers.  Something  was  necessary  to  call  attention  at 
this  moment  of  literary  languor  and  political  excitement 
to  a  volume  of  poetry  by  an  author  almost  unknown  to 
the  British  public. 

I  have  taken  the  further  liberty  of  altering  two  or 
three  words  in  the  little  poem  of  "  Marion's  Men,"  lest 
they  might  startle  the  pride  of  John  Bull  on  your  first 
introduction  to  him. 

Mr.  Andrews,  the  bookseller,  has  promised  to  divide 
with  you  any  profits  that  may  arise  on  the  publication, 
and  I  have  the  fullest  reliance  on  his  good  faith.  The 
present  moment,  however,  is  far  from  promising  to  liter 
ary  gains,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  the  returns 
were  but  trifling. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir, 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

WM.  C.  BRYANT,  ESQB. 

Dana,  who  took  more  than  a  paternal  pride  in 
Bryant's  poetry,  choked  a  little  over  the  dedication 
to  Rogers.  "  I  learn  by  to-day's  paper,"  he  wrote, 
"  that  the  English  edition  of  your  poems  has  made 
its  appearance  with  a  dedication  to  Rogers  by 
Irving.  Samuel  Rogers !  never  mind,  dear  sir,  it* 
will  help  to  favor." 

Rogers  was  not  a  great  poet,  but  lie  was  by  no 
means  an  inferior  critic,  nor  was  there  any  poet  in 
England  in  his  time  who  did  not  value  and  desire 


THE  POET.  123 

his  protection.  He  had  the  sagacity  to  discern,  and 
the  magnanimity  to  recognize  everywhere  and  on 
all  occasions,  the  merit  of  Bryant's  poetry,  and 
when  Bryant  called  upon  him  later  in  London,  he 
neglected  no  means  of  testifying  his  admiration  and 
respect  both  for  the  poet  and  the  man.  It  is  inter 
esting  to  those  who  knew  Bryant's  shyness  and  his 
undemonstrative  ways  with  a  new  acquaintance  to 
see  how  rapidly  he  entered  into  relations  of  affec 
tionate  intimacy  with  this  venerable  cynic,  some 
evidences  of  which  are  disclosed  in  the  following 
extract  from  an  article  which  he  allowed  himself  to 
write  and  print  in  the  "  Evening  Post "  on  receiv 
ing  the  news  of  Rogers's  death. 

"  The  death  of  the  poet  Rogers,"  he  said,  "  seems 
almost  like  the  extinction  of  an  institution.  The 
world  by  his  departure  has  one  object  the  less  of  in 
terest  and  reverence.  The  elegant  hospitality  which 
he  dispensed  for  nearly  three  quarters  of  a  century, 
and  in  which  Americans  had  a  large  share,  is 
brought  to  an  end,  and  a  vacuity  is  created  which 
no  Englishman  can  supply.  Rogers  loved  to  speak 
of  his  relations  with  Americans.  '  Three  American 
Presidents,'  he  used  to  say,  '  have  been  entertained 
under  my  roof; ' l  and  then  he  would  enumerate,  in 
his  succinct  way,  the  illustrious  men,  founders  of 
our  republic,  or  eminent  in  its  later  history,  who 
had  been  his  guests.  He  claimed  an  hereditary 
interest  in  our  country.  On  the  news  of  the 
battle  of  Lexington,  his  father  put  on  mourning. 

1  Probably  John  Quincy  Adams,  Fillraore,  and  Van  Buren. 


124  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

4  Have  you  lost  a  friend  ? '  somebody  asked  him 
who  saw  this  indication  of  sorrow.  '  I  have  lost 
a  great  many,'  was  the  answer  ;  4  my  friends  in  New 
England.' 

"  Rogers's  breakfasts  were  the  pleasantest  social 
meetings  that  can  be  conceived  of.  There  you 
met  persons  of  every  variety  of  intellectual  and 
social  distinction,  eminent  men  and  attractive  wo 
men,  wits,  orators,  dramatists,  travelers,  artists, 
persons  remarkable  for  their  powers  of  conversa 
tion,  all  of  whom  found  themselves  on  the  easiest 
terms  with  their  venerable  host,  whose  noon  of  life 
was  reached  in  the  last  century.  Even  bores,  in 
his  society,  which  discouraged  all  tediousness,  and 
in  the  respect  which  his  presence  inspired,  seemed 
to  lose  their  usual  character,  and  to  fall  involun 
tarily  into  the  lively  and  graceful  flow  of  conversa 
tion  of  which  he  gave  the  example. 

"  The  following  little  incident  will  show  with  how 
good  a  grace  he  could  welcome  a  stranger  to  his 
hospitable  dwelling.  On  one  occasion  he  met  an 
American  for  the  first  time  1  at  a  literary  break 
fast  at  the  table  of  Mr.  Everett,  who,  while  abroad, 
was  never  wanting  in  obliging  and  friendly  atten 
tions  to  his  countrymen.  4  Where  are  you  lodging  ? ' 
he  asked  of  the  American.  4  In  St.  James's  Place,' 
was  the  answer.  '  Come  with  me,'  said  Mr.  Rogers, 
'  and  I  will  show  you  the  nearest  way  to  St.  James's 
Place.'  He  took  his  new  acquaintance  into  that 
part  of  London  which  is  sometimes  called  Bel- 

1  This  was  Mr.  Bryant  himself. 


THE  POET.  125 

gravia,  and  pointed  out  to  him  the  stately  rows  of 
spacious  mansions  lately  erected  to  embellish  the 
great  capital  of  England  ;  then  passing  through 
the  Park  of  St.  James,  fresh  in  the  beauty  of 
early  June,  he  arrived  at  the  gate  of  a  small 
garden.  Taking  a  key  from  his  pocket,  he  opened 
the  gate,  and,  following  a  little  walk  among  shrub 
bery  and  trees,  on  which  innumerable  sparrows 
were  chirping,  he  entered  a  house  by  the  back 
door,  and  introduced  the  American  to  his  own 
home.  After  he  had  given  him  a  little  time  to 
observe  the  objects  of  art  which  it  contained,  he 
dismissed  him  by  the  front  door,  which  opened  into 
St.  James's  Place.  'You  see,'  he  said,  'that  I 
have  brought  you  by  the  nearest  way  to  St.  James's 
Place.  Remember  the  house,  and  come  to  break 
fast  with  me  to-morrow  morning.' 

"  The  mention  of  sparrows  in  his  garden  reminds 
us  of  an  anecdote  of  which  they  were  the  subject. 
4 1  once  used  to  feed  sparrows,'  said  Mr.  Rogers  ; 
4  but  one  day,  when  I  was  throwing  them  some 
crumbs  for  their  breakfast,  a  gentleman  said  to  me  : 
"  Do  you  see  those  birds  on  the  tree  yonder,  how 
they  keep  aloof,  and  do  not  venture  down,  while 
those  on  the  ground  are  feasting  at  their  leisure  ? 
Those  yonder  are  the  females  ;  these  which  you 
are  feeding  are  the  gentlemen  sparrows  ;  they  keep 
their  mates  at  a  distance."  Since  that  day  I  have 
fed  sparrows  no  more.' 

'"  Rogers  began  his  poetical  career  early.  One 
of  his  acquaintances  was  speaking  of  the  little 


126  WILL] 'AM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

well-known  song  of  his,  familiar  to  our  grandmo 
thers  :  — 

" '  Dear  is  my  little  native  vale  : 

The  ring-dove  builds  and  warbles  there ; 

Close  by  my  cot  she  tells  her  tale, 
To  every  passing  villager. 

The  squirrel  leaps  from  tree  to  tree, 

And  shells  his  nuts  at  liberty.' 

"  '  I  wrote  that  song  at  sixteen  years  of  age/ 
said  Mr.  Rogers.  Yet,  though  the  production  of 
an  immature  age,  it  has  all  the  better  characteris 
tics  of  his  later  poetry,  and  it  shows  how  remarka 
bly  early  they  were  acquired.  In  his  k  Pleasures  of 
Memory,'  very  elaborately  composed,  he  adopted 
the  carefully  measured  versification  in  fashion  at 
the  time  it  appeared,  with  its  unvaried  periods, 
its  antithetic  turns,  and  its  voluntary  renunciation 
of  the  power  of  proportioning  the  expression  to  the 
thought.  In  his  4  Human  Life,'  a  later  and  finer 
poem,  he  shows  that  his  taste  had  changed  with 
the  taste  of  the  age  ;  he  broke  loose  from  the  old 
fetters,  indulging  in  a  freer  modulation  of  num 
bers,  though  not  parting  with  any  of  their  har 
mony  and  sweetness,  and  studying  a  more  vigorous 
and  direct  phraseology.  '  Human  Life '  is  the  best 
of  his  longer  poems,  and  that  in  which  his  genius 
is  seen  to  best  advantage.  It  deals  with  life  in  its 
gentler  and  less  stormy  moods,  whether  of  pleasure 
or  of  sadness,  the  sunshine  and  the  shadows  of 
common  life.  The  poem  is  of  a  kind  by  which  a 
large  class  of  readers  is  interested,  and  contains 
passages  which  once  read  are  often  recurred  to, 
and  keep  their  place  in  the  memory. 


THE  POET.  127 

"  The  illustrated  edition  of  his  poems  is  the  only 
work  of  the  kind  with  which  we  are  perfectly  satis 
fied.  To  illustrate  adequately  by  the  pencil  the 
writings  of  an  eminent  poet  is  one  of  the  most  dif 
ficult  undertakings-  in  the  world.  The  fine  taste  of 
Kogers  in  the  arts  and  his  intimacy  with  the  great 
est  artists  of  his  country  gave  him  a  great  advan 
tage  in  this  respect ;  and  we  have  heard  that  the 
designs  which  embellish  that  edition  of  his  works 
were  selected  from  a  much  larger  number  made 
for  that  purpose. 

"  In  approaching  the  close  of  a  life  so  much  pro 
longed  beyond  the  usual  lot  of  man,  —  a  life  the 
years  of  which  circumscribed  the  activity  of  three 
generations,  —  he  contemplated  his  departure  with 
the  utmost  serenity.  The  state  of  man  after 
death  he  called  the  great  subject,  and  calmly 
awaited  the  moment  when  he  should  be  admitted 
to  contemplate  its  mysteries.  '  I  have  found  life 
in  this  world,'  he  used  to  say,  '  a  happy  state  ;  the 
goodness  of  God  has  taken  care  that  none  of  its 
functions,  even  the  most  inconsiderable,  should  be 
performed  without  sensible  pleasure  ;  and  I  am 
confident  that  in  the  world  to  come  the  same  care 
for  my  happiness  will  accompany  me.' 

"  Mr.  Rogers  was  of  low  stature,  neither  slightly 
nor  sturdily  proportioned  ;  his  face  was  rather  full 
and  broad  than  otherwise,  and  his  complexion  col 
orless.  He  always  wore  a  frock-coat.  '  I  will  not 
go  to  court,'  he  used  to  say,  4  and  for  one  reason 
among  others,  that  I  will  not  wear  any  other  coat 


128  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

than  this.'  '  The  other  day,'  he  once  added,  4 1 
sent  my  clothes  to  the  palace,  and  a  man  in  them.' 
The  man  whom  he  meant  was  Wordsworth,  who 
came  to  London  as  the  gnest  of  Rogers,  in  order 
to  attend  court  at  the  bidding  of  the  Queen,  and 
to  make  his  acknowledgments  for  the  post  of  lau 
reate,  which  had  been  bestowed  on  him.  On  that 
occasion  he  wore  the  court  suit  of  Mr.  Rogers, 
whose  guest  he  was. 

"  In  conversation,  Mr.  Rogers  was  one  of  the 
most  agreeable  and  interesting  of  men  ;  he  was  re 
markable  for  a  certain  graceful  laconism,  a  neat 
ness  and  power  of  selection  in  telling  a  story  or 
expressing  a  thought,  with  its  accessories,  which 
were  the  envy  of  the  best  talkers  of  his  time.  His 
articulation  was  distinct,  just  deliberate  enough  to 
be  listened  to  with  pleasure,  and  during  the  last 
ten  to  twelve  years  of  his  life  slightly  —  and  but 
very  slightly  —  marked  with  the  tremulousness  of 
old  age. 

"  His  ordinary  manner  was  kind  and  paternal ; 
he  delighted  to  relate  anecdotes  illustrative  of  the 
power  of  the  affections,  which  he  did  with  great 
feeling.  On  occasion,  however,  he  could  say  caus 
tic  things  ;  and  a  few  examples  of  this  kind,  which 
were  so  epigrammatic  as  to  be  entertaining  in  their 
repetition,  have  given  rise  to  the  mistake  that  they 
were  frequent  in  his  conversation.  His  behavior 
to  the  other  sex  was  uncommonly  engaging.  He 
was  on  friendly  terms  with  his  eminent  literary 
brethren,  though  they  were  enemies  to  each  other ; 


THE  POET.  129 

and,  notwithstanding  that  his  political  opinions 
were  those  of  the  liberal  school,  his  intimacies 
knew  no  party  distinctions,  and  included  men  of 
the  opposite  sect." 

The  alterations  in  one  of  Bryant's  poems  which 
Irving  had  allowed  himself  to  make  before  they 
were  published  had  results  which  threatened  for  a 
time  to  prove  most  unfortunate.  Mr.  Leggett,  who 
had  just  established  the  "  Plaindealer,"  and  who 
was  justly  incensed  by  a  practice  more  or  less  pre 
valent  among  American  publishers  of  mutilating 
foreign  works  which  they  were  reprinting,  by  ex 
punging  passages  likely  to  prove  offensive  to  slave 
owners,  went  quite  out  of  his  way  to  charge  Irving 
with  "  literary  pusillanimity  "  for  changing  in  the 
"  Song  of  Marion's  Men  "  the  line 

' '  And  the  British  f  oeman  trembles ' ' 

into 

"  The  f  oeman  trembles  in  his  camp." 

This  article  naturally  provoked  Irving,  who  had 
recently  returned  from  Madrid,  and  one  of  the 
results  was  a  letter  to  the  editor  of  the  "  Plain- 
dealer,"  which  I  here  give  entire,  as  it  is  now  to 
be  found,  I  believe,  only  in  the  journals  of  that  pe 
riod,  where  it  is  no  longer  readily  accessible. 
To  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  PLAITSTDEALER. 

SIR,  —  Living  at  present  in  the  country  and  out  of 
the  way  of  the  current  literature  of  the  day,  it  was  not 
until  this  morning  that  I  saw  your  paper  of  the  14th  of 
January,  or  knew  anything  of  your  animadversions  on 
my  conduct  and  character  therein  contained.  Though 


130  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

I  have  generally  abstained  from  noticing  any  attack 
upon  myself  in  the  public  papers,  the  present  is  one 
which  I  cannot  suffer  to  pass  in  silence. 

In  the  first  place  you  have  censured  me  strongly  for 
having  altered  a  paragraph  in  the  London  edition  of  Mr. 
Bryant's  poems  ;  and  the  remarks  and  comparisons  in 
which  you  have  indulged  on  the  occasion  would  seem  to 
imply  that  I  have  a  literary  hostility  to  Mr.  Bryant  and 
a  disposition  to  detract  from  the  measure  of  his  well- 
merited  reputation. 

The  relation  in  which  you  stand  to  that  gentleman, 
as  his  particular  friend  and  literary  associate,  gives 
these  animadversions  the  greater  weight,  and  calls  for  a 
real  statement  of  the  case. 

When  I  was  last  in  London  (I  think  in  1832),  I 
received  a  copy  of  the  American  edition  of  Mr.  Bryant's 
poems  from  some  friend  (I  now  forget  from  whom), 
who  expressed  a  wish  that  it  might  be  republished  in 
England.  I  had  not  at  that  time  the  pleasure  of  a 
personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Bryant,  but  I  felt  the 
same  admiration  for  his  poems  that  you  have  expressed, 
and  was  desirous  that  writings  so  honorable  to  Ameri 
can  literature  should  be  known  to  the  British  public,  and 
take  their  merited  rank  in  the  literature  of  the  language. 
I  exerted  myself,  therefore,  to  get  them  republished  by 
some  London  bookseller,  but  met  with  unexpected  diffi 
culties,  poetry  being  declared  quite  unsalable  since  the 
death  of  Lord  Byron.  At  length  a  bookseller  was  in 
duced  to  undertake  an  edition  by  my  engaging  gratui 
tously  to  edit  the  work,  and  to  write  something  that 
might  call  public  attention  to  it.  I  accordingly  prefixed 
to  the  volume  a  dedicatory  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Sam 
uel  Rogers,  in  which,  while  I  expressed  my  own  opinion 


THE  POET.  131 

of  the  poems,  I  took  occasion  to  allude  to  the  still  more 
valuable  approbation  which  I  had  heard  expressed  by 
that  distinguished  author,  thus  bringing  the  work  before 
the  British  public  with  the  high  sanction  of  one  of  the 
most  refined  critics  of  the  day.  While  the  work  was 
going  through  the  press,  an  objection  was  started  to  the 
passage  in  the  poem  of  "  Marion's  Men  "  — 

"  And  the  Britisli  foeman  trembles 
When  Marion's  name  is  heard." 

It  was  considered  as  peculiarly  calculated  to  shock 
the  feelings  of  British  readers  on  the  most  sensitive 
point,  seeming  to  call  in  question  the  courage  of  the  na 
tion.  It  was  urged  that  common  decorum  required  the 
softening  of  such  a  passage  in  an  edition  exclusively  in 
tended  for  the  British  public ;  and  I  was  asked  what 
would  be  the  feelings  of  American  readers  if  such  an 
imputation  on  the  courage  of  their  countrymen  were  in 
serted  in  a  work  presented  for  their  approbation.  These 
objections  were  urged  in  a  spirit  of  friendship  to  Mr. 
Bryant,  and  with  a  view  to  his  success,  for  it  was  sug 
gested  that  this  passage  might  be  felt  as  a  taunt  of  bra 
vado,  and  might  awaken  a  prejudice  against  the  work 
before  its  merits  could  be  appreciated. 

I  doubt  whether  these  objections  would  have  oc 
curred  to  me  had  they  not  been  thus  set  forth,  but  when 
thus  urged  I  yielded  to  them,  and  softened  the  passage 
in  question  by  omitting  the  adjective  British,  and  sub 
stituting  one  of  a  more  general  signification.  If  this 
evinced  "  timidity  of  spirit,"  it  was  a  timidity  felt  en 
tirely  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Bryant.  I  was  not  to  be  harmed 
by  the  insertion  of  the  paragraph  as  it  originally  stood. 
I  freely  confess,  however,  that  I  have  at  all  times  al 
most  as  strong  a  repugnance  to  tell  a  painful  or  humil- 


132  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

iating  truth,  unnecessarily,  as  I  have  to  tell  an  untruth 
under  any  circumstances.  To  speak  the  truth  on  all 
occasions  is  the  indispensable  attribute  of  man  ;  to  re 
frain  from  uttering  disagreeable  truths,  unnecessarily, 
belongs,  I  think,  to  the  character  of  a  gentleman ;  nei 
ther,  sir,  do  I  think  it  incompatible  with  fair  dealing, 
however  little  it  may  square  with  your  notions  of  plain- 
dealing. 

The  foregoing  statement  will  show  how  I  stand  with 
regard  to  Mr.  Bryant.  I  trust  his  fame  has  suffered 
nothing  by  my  republication  of  his  works  in  London  ; 
at  any  rate,  he  has  expressed  his  thanks  to  me  by  letter, 
since  my  return  to  this  country.  I  was  therefore,  I 
confess,  but  little  prepared  to  receive  a  stab  from  his 
bosom  friend. 

Another  part  of  your  animadversions  is  of  a  much 
graver  nature,  for  it  implies  a  charge  of  hypocrisy  and 
double  dealing  which  I  indignantly  repel  as  incompatible 
with  my  nature.  You  intimate  that  "  in  publishing  a 
book  of  my  own,  I  prepare  one  preface  for  my  country 
men  full  of  amor  patrice  and  professions  of  home  feel 
ing,  and  another  for  the  London  market  in  which  such 
professions  are  studiously  omitted."  Your  inference  is 
that  these  professions  are  hollow,  and  intended  to  gain 
favor  with  my  countrymen,  and  that  they  are  omitted  in 
the  London  edition  through  fear  of  offending  English 
readers.  Were  I  indeed  chargeable  with  such  baseness, 
I  should  well  merit  the  contempt  you  invoke  upon  my 
head.  As  I  give  you  credit,  sir,  for  probity,  I  was  at  a 
loss  to  think  on  what  you  could  ground  such  an  imputa 
tion,  until  it  occurred  to  me  that  some  circumstances 
attending  the  publication  of  my  "  Tour  on  the  Prairies  " 
might  have  given  rise  to  a  misconception  in  your  mind. 


THE  POET.  133 

It  may  seem  strange  to  those  intimately  acquainted 
with  my  character  that  I  should  think  it  necessary  to 
defend  myself  from  a  charge  of  duplicity,  hut  as  many 
of  your  readers  may  know  me  as  little  as  you  appear  to 
do,  I  must  again  be  excused  in  a  detail  of  fact. 

When  my  "  Tour  on  the  Prairies "  was  ready  for 
the  press,  I  sent  a  manuscript  copy  to  England  for  pub 
lication,  and  at  the  same  time  p'ut  a  copy  in  the  press  at 
New  York.  As  this  was  my  first  appearance  before  the 
American  public  since  my  return,  I  was  induced  while 
the  work  was  printing  to  modify  the  introduction  so  as 
to  express  my  sense  of  the  unexpected  warmth  with 
which  I  had  been  welcomed  to  my  native  place,  and  my 
general  feelings  on  finding  myself  once  more  at  home, 
and  ainon^  my  friends.  These  feelings,  sir,  were  gen 
uine,  and  were  not  expressed  with  half  the  warmth  with 
which  they  were  entertained.  Circumstances  alluded. to 
in  that  introduction  had  made  the  reception  I  met  with 
from  my  countrymen  doubly  dear  and  touching  to  me, 
and  had  filled  my  heart  with  affectionate  gratitude  for 
their  unlooked-for  kindness.  In  fact,  misconstructions 
of  my  conduct  and  misconceptions  of  my  character, 
somewhat  similar  to  those  I  am  at  present  endeavoring 
to  rebut,  had  appeared  in  the  public  press,  and  as  I  er 
roneously  supposed,  had  prejudiced  the  mind  of  my 
countrymen  against  me.  The  professions,  therefore,  to 
which  you  have  alluded  were  uttered,  not  to  obviate 
such  prejudices,  or  to  win  my  way  to  the  good  will  of 
my  countrymen,  but  to  express  my  feelings  after  their 
good  will  had  been  unequivocally  manifested.  While  I 
thought  they  doubted  me,  I  remained  silent ;  when  I 
found  they  believed  in  me,  I  spoke.  I  have  never  been 
in  the  habit  of  beguiling  them  by  fulsome  professions  of 


134  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

patriotism,  those  cheap  passports  to  public  favor ;  and  I 
think  I  might  for  once  have  been  indulged  in  briefly 
touching  a  chord,  on  which  others  have  harped  to  so 
much  advantage. 

Now,  sir,  even  granting  I  had  *•  studiously  omitted  " 
all  those  professions  in  the  introduction  intended  for  the 
London  market,  instead  of  giving  utterance  to  them 
after  that  article  had  been  sent  off,  where,  I  would  ask, 
would  have  been  the  impropriety  of  the  act  ?  What 
had  the  British  public  to  do  with  those  home  greetings 
and  those  assurances  of  gratitude  and  affection  which 
related  exclusively  to  my  countrymen,  and  .grew  out  of 
my  actual  position  with  regard  to  them  ?  There  was 
nothing  in  them  at  which  the  British  reader  could  pos 
sibly  take  offense ;  the  omitting  of  them,  therefore, 
could  not  have  argued  "timidity,"  but  would  have  been 
merely  a  matter  of  good  taste  ;  for  they  would  have 
been  as  much  out  of  place  repeated  to  English  readers, 
as  would  have  been  my  greetings  and  salutations  to  my 
family  circle,  if  repeated  out  of  the  window  for  the  ben 
efit  of  the  passers-by  in  the  street. 

I  have  no  intention,  sir,  of  imputing  to  you  any 
malevolent  feeling  in  the  unlooked-for  attack  you  have 
made  upon  me :  I  can  see  no  motive  you  have  for  such 
hostility.  I  rather  think  you  have  acted  from  honest 
feelings,  hastily  excited  by  a  misapprehension  of  facts  ; 
and  that  you  have  been  a  little  too  eager  to  give  an  in 
stance  of  that  "  plaindealing  "  which  you  have  recently 
adopted  as  your  war-cry.  Plaindealing,  sir,  is  a  great 
merit,  when  accompanied  by  magnanimity,  and  exer 
cised  with  a  just  and  generous  spirit ;  but  if  pushed  too 
far,  and  made  the  excuse  for  indulging  every  impulse  of 
passion  or  prejudice,  it  may  render  a  man,  especially  in 


THE  POET.  135 

your  situation,  a  very  offensive,  if  not  a  very  mischiev 
ous  member  of  the  community.  Such  I  sincerely  hope 
and  trust  may  not  be  your  case ;  but  this  hint,  given 
in  a  spirit  of  caution,  not  of  accusation,  may  not  be  of 
disservice  to  you. 

In  the  present  instance  I  have  only  to  ask  that  you 
will  give  this  article  an  insertion  in  your  paper,  being 
intended  not  so  much  for  yourself,  as  for  those  of  your 
readers  who  may  have  been  prejudiced  against  me  by 
your  animadversions.  Your  editorial  position,  of  course, 
gives  you  an  opportunity  of  commenting  upon  it  accord 
ing  to  the  current  of  your  feelings ;  and  whatever  may 
be  your  comments,  it  is  not  probable  that  they  will  draw 
any  further  reply  from  me.  Recrimination  is  a  miser 
able  kind  of  redress  in  which  I  never  indulge,  and  I 
have  no  relish  for  the  warfare  of  the  pen. 

Very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

In  submitting  this  letter  to  his  readers,  Mr.  Leg- 
gett,  while  modifying  in  no  degree  the  opinion  he 
had  expressed  of  what  he  deemed  the  liberty 
Irving  had  taken  with  Bryant's  verse,  took  pains 
to  relieve  Bryant  from  all  responsibility  for  what 
he  had  written  about  it. 

"It  is  proper/*  he  began  his  comments,  "that  we 
should  exonerate  Mr.  Bryant  from  any  lot  or  part,  di 
rectly  or  indirectly,  in  the  remarks  we  made  concerning 
what  seemed  to  us  (and  we  must  be  pardoned  for  saying 
what  still  seems  to  us)  a  piece  of  literary  pusillanimity 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Irving.  Whether  our  censure  was 
called  for  or  not,  and  whether  well  founded  or  not, 
we  alone  are  responsible  for  having  uttered  it.  Mr. 


136  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Bryant's  first  knowledge  of  the  article,  like  Mr.  Irving's, 
was  derived  from  a  perusal  of  the  published  '  Plain- 
dealer,'  placed  in  his  hands  in  the  regular  course  of  dis 
tribution  to  subscribers.  Nay,  more,  to  disabuse  not 
only  Mr.  Irving's  mind,  but  the  minds  of  those  whom  the 
phraseology  of  his  communication  in  certain  parts  may 
mislead,  candor  requires  us  to  state  that,  on  various  oc 
casions,  we  have  heard  Mr.  Bryant  express  the  kindest 
sentiments  towards  Mr.  Irving  for  the  interest  he  took 
in  the  publication  of  a  London  edition  of  his  poems,  and 
for  the  complimentary  terms  in  which  he  introduced 
them  to  the  British  public." 

Not  content  with  Leggett's  declaration  of  his 
innocence  of  any  responsibility  for  the  strictures 
of  the  "  Plaindealer,"  and  a  little  moved  by  what 
seemed  to  him  a  slightly  skeptical  tone  on  this 
point  in  Irving's  letter,  Bryant  sent  to  the  "  Plain- 
dealer  "  the  following  :  — 

44  To  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  PLAINDEALER. 

"  SIR,  —  I  read  in  your  paper  of  the  28th  of 
January  a  letter  from  Mr.  Irving,  partly  in  answer 
to  a  censure  passed  in  a  previous  number  upon  an 
alteration  made  by  him  in  the  London  edition  of 
my  poems.  I  was  much  surprised  to  find  that  he 
chose  to  consider  me  as  in  some  degree  answerable 
for  your  animadversions.  Disliking  as  I  do  to 
speak  of  my  private  affairs  in  print,  I  was  glad  to 
see  that  you  fully  replied  to  his  suspicions  by  de 
claring  them  utterly  groundless.  I  find,  however, 
that  many  of  the  friends  of  that  distinguished  au 
thor  are  still  determined  to  make  me,  in  some  way 


THE  POET.  137 

or  other,  the  instigator  of  an  attack  upon  him,  in 
return  for  the  kindness  he  had  shown  in  recom 
mending  my  volume  to  the  British  public.  I  must, 
therefore,  beg  you  to  print  this  communication. 

"  Let  me  quote  in  the  first  place  those  passages 
in  Mr.  Irving's  letter  which  have  led  me  to  ask  of 
you  this  favor.  Near  the  beginning  he  says,  allud 
ing  to  your  animadversions  and  to  me :  — 

" c  The  relation  in  which  you  stand  to  that 
gentleman  as  his  particular  friend  and  literary 
associate  gives  these  animadversions  the  greater 
weight,  and  calls  for  a  real  statement  of  the  case.' 

"  And  again  :  — 

"  4  The  foregoing  statement  will  show  how  I  stand 
with  regard  to  Mr.  Bryant.  I  trust  his  fame  has 
suffered  nothing  by  my  republication  of  his  works 
in  London ;  at  any  rate,  he  has  expressed  his 
thanks  to  me  by  letter  since  my  return  to  this 
country.  I  was  therefore,  I  confess,  but  little  pre 
pared  to  receive  a  stab  from  his  bosom  friend/ 

"  I  cannot  refrain  from  again  expressing  my 
surprise  that  with  the  proof  of  my  real  feelings  in 
his  hands,  contained  in  the  letter  of  which  he 
speaks,  Mr.  Irving  should  have  found  it  possible 
to  connect  me  in  any  manner  with  the  animadver 
sions  to  which  he  alludes. 

"  I  must,  then,  declare  briefly  that  I  highly  ap 
preciated  the  generosity  of  Mr.  Irving  in  bringing 
my  work  before  the  British  public  with  the  great 
advantage  of  his  commendation,  and  that  although 
I  should  not  have  made  the  alteration  in  question, 


138  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

I  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  made  with  the  kindest 
intentions,  and  never  complained  of  it  to  anybody. 
If  I  had  been  disposed  to  complain  of  it  privately, 
it  would  have  been  to  himself ;  if  publicly,  it  would 
have  been  under  my  own  name  ;  nor  can  I  compre 
hend  the  disingenuous  and  pusillanimous  malignity 
which  would  have  led  me  to  procure  another  to 
attack  in  public  what  I  had  not  even  ventured  to 
blame  in  private. 

"  It  is  perhaps  best  that  I  should  leave  the  mat 
ter  here  ;  merely  remarking,  in  conclusion,  that 
they  who  are  acquainted  with  the  literary  as  well 
as  the  political  course  of  the  '  Plaindealer  '  know 
very  well  that  its  editor  is  not  accustomed  to  shape 
his  censures  or  his  praises  according  to  the  opin 
ions  or  the  desires  of  others. 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  NEW  YORK,  February  6,  1837." 

The  following  rejoinder  from  Irving,  which  ap 
peared  in  the  "  New  York  American,"  closed  the 
discussion.  Bryant  has  told  us  that  his  explana 
tion  "  was  graciously  accepted,  and  in  a  brief  note 
in  the  '  Plaindealer '  Irving  pronounced  my  ac 
quittal."  It  is  more  difficult  for  us  even  now  to 
acquit  Mr.  Leggett  for  his  part  in  provoking  this 
correspondence  :  — 

To  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT,  ESQ. 

SIB,  —  It  was  not  until  this  moment  that  I  saw  your 
letter  in  the  "  Plaindealer  "  of  Saturday  last.  I  cannot 
express  to  you  how  much  it  has  shocked  and  grieved 
me.  Not  having  read  any  of  the  comments  of  the  editor 


THE  POET.  139 

of  the  "  Plaindealer  "  on  the  letter  which  I  addressed  to 
him,  and  being  in  the  country,  out  of  the  way  of  hearing 
the  comments  of  others,  I  was  totally  ignorant  of  the 
construction  put  upon  the  passages  of  that  letter  which 
you  have  cited.  Whatever  construction  these  passages 
may  be  susceptible  of,  I  do  assure  you,  sir,  I  never  sup 
posed,  nor  had  the  remotest  intention  to  insinuate  that 
you  had  the  least  participation  in  the  attack  recently 
made  upon  my  character  by  the  editor  of  the  above 
mentioned  paper,  or  that  you  entertained  feelings  which 
could  in  any  degree  be  gratified  by  such  an  attack. 
Had  I  thought  you  chargeable  with  such  hostility  I 
should  have  made  the  charge  directly  and  explicitly, 
and  not  by  innuendo. 

The  little  opportunity  that  I  have  had,  sir,  of  judg 
ing  of  your  private  character,  has  only  tended  to  con 
firm  the  opinion  I  had  formed  of  you  from  your  poetic 
writings,  which  breathe  a  spirit  too  pure,  amiable,  and 
elevated  to  permit  me  for  a  moment  to  think  you 
capable  of  anything  ungenerous  or  unjust. 

As  to  the  alteration  of  a  word  in  the  London  edition 
of  your  poems,  which  others  have  sought  to  nurture  into 
a  root  of  bitterness  between  us,  I  have  already  stated 
my  motives  for  it,  and  the  embarrassment  in  which  I 
was  placed.  I  regret  extremely  that  it  should  not  have 
met  with  your  approbation,  and  sincerely  apologize  to 
you  for  the  liberty  I  was  persuaded  to  take :  a  liberty,  I 
freely  acknowledge,  the  least  excusable  with  writings 
like  yours,  in  which  it  is  difficult  to  alter  a  word  without 
marring  a  beauty. 

Believe  me,  sir,  with  perfect  respect  and  esteem, 
Very  truly  yours,  WASHINGTON 

THURSDAY  MORNING,  February  Wth. 


140  WILLIAM  CULL  EN   BRYANT. 

Of  Bryant's  rank  and  merits  as  a  poet  there  is, 
and  for  some  time  to  come  is  likely  to  be,  a  great 
diversity  of  opinion.  A  partial  explanation  of  this 
may  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the  most  enduring 
qualities  of  his  verse  are  readily  appreciated  by 
only  a  comparatively  restricted  class  even  of  those 
who  read  poetry.  He  was  essentially  an  ethical 
poet.  His  inspiration  was  always  from  above.  In 
the  flower,  in  the  stream,  in  the  tempest,  in  the 
rainbow,  in  the  snow,  in  everything  about  him, 
nature  was  always  telling  him  something  new  of 
the  goodness  of  God  and  framing  excuses  for  the 
frail  and  the  erring.  His  verses  are  the  record  of 
these  lessons  as  far  as  he  apprehended  and  could 
express  them.  The  number  who  comprehend  the 
full  force  of  them  at  a  single  reading,  however,  is 
comparatively  small.  Every  one  of  his  verses  will 
bear  the  supreme  test  of  a  work  of  literary  art, 
which  discloses  a  wider  horizon  and  new  merits  at 
each  successive  perusal. 

Bryant's  whole  life  was  a  struggle,  and  a  mar- 
velously  successful  struggle,  with  the  infirmities  of 
the  natural  man.  In  his  work,  whether  as  journal 
ist  or  poet,  the  moral  elevation  of  himself  and  of 
his  fellow  -  creatures  was  the  warp  of  whatever 
theme  might  be  the  woof.  But  the  ethical  nature 
is  always  operating  upon  two  parallel  but  quite 
separate  lines.  It  is  critical  and  denunciatory  when 
dealing  with  error  and  wrong-doing ;  it  is  hopeful, 
joyous,  and  strengthening  when  it  deals  with  the 
virtues  and  their  triumphs.  Bryant  confined  the 


THE  POET.  141 

exercise  of  the  critical  function  of  the  moralist 
mainly  to  his  newspaper  ;  in  his  verse  he  sang  the 
beauty  and  joys  of  holiness.  As  a  journalist,  he 
was  prone  to  dwell  upon  wrongs  to  be  repaired, 
upon  evils  to  be  reformed,  upon  public  offenders 
to  be  punished.  But  when  he  donned  his  sing 
ing  robes  and  retired  from  the  clash  and  din  of 
worldly  strife,  he  went  up  into  a  mountain  and 
sat,  and  angels  ministered  unto  him  ;  everything 
around  him  seemed  eloquent  of  hope  and  cheer,  of 
faith  and  love.  The  sight  of  the  '  new  moon '  brings 

"  Thoughts  of  all  fair  and  youthful  things  — 

The  hopes  of  early  years  ; 
And  childhood's  purity  and  grace, 
And  joys  that  like  a  rainbow  chase 
The  passing  shower  of  tears. 

"  The  captive  yields  him  to  the  dream 
Of  freedom,  when  that  virgin  beam 

Comes  out  upon  the  air ; 
And  painfully  the  sick  man  tries 
To  fix  his  dim  and  burning  eyes 
On  the  sweet  promise  there. 

"Most  welcome  to  the  lovers'  sight 
Glitters  that  pure,  emerging  light ; 

For  prattling  poets  say, 
That  sweetest  is  the  lovers'  walk, 
And  tenderest  is  their  murmured  talk, 

Beneath  its  gentle  ray. 

"And  there  do  graver  men  behold 
A  type  of  errors,  loved  of  old, 

Forsaken  and  forgiven  ; 
And  thoughts  and  wishes  not  of  earth 


142  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Just  opening-  in  their  early  birth, 
Like  that  new  light  in  heaven." 

The  waning  moon  has  its  lesson  also  :  — 

"  In  thy  decaying  beam  there  lies 

Full  many  a  grave  on  hill  and  plain 
Of  those  who  closed  their  dying  eyes 
In  grief  that  they  had  lived  in  vain. 

"  Another  night  and  thou  among 

The  spheres  of  heaven  shall  cease  to  shine ; 
All  rayless  in  the  glittering  throng 

Whose  lustre  late  was  quenched  in  thine. 

"Yet  soon  a  new  and  tender  light 

From  out  thy  darkened  orb  shall  beam, 
And  broaden  till  it  shines  all  night 

On  glistening  dew,  and  glimmering  stream." 

In  the  winds  he  finds  a  lesson  which  he  com 
mends  with  exquisite  grace  to  the  impatient  re 
formers  of  society. 

"  Yet  oh,  when  that  wronged  Spirit  of  our  race 

Shall  break,  as  soon  he  must,  his  long-worn  chains 
And  leap  in  freedom  from  his  prison-place, 

Lord  of  his  ancient  hills  and  fruitful  plains, 
Let  him  not  rise,  like  these  mad  winds  of  air, 
To  waste  the  loveliness  that  time  could  spare, 
To  fill  the  earth  with  woe,  and  blot  her  fair 

Unconscious  breast  with  blood  from  human  veins. 

"But  may  he  like  the  spring-time  come  abroad, 

Who  crumbles  winter's  gyves  with  gentle  might 
When  in  the  genial  breeze,  the  breath  of  God, 

The  unsealed  springs  come  spouting  up  to  light ; 
Flowers  start  from  their  dark  prisons  at  his  feet, 
The  woods,  long  dumb,  awake  to  hymnings  sweet, 
And  morn  and  eve,  whose  glimmerings  almost  meet, 
Crowd  back  to  narrow  bounds  the  ancient  night." 


THE  POET.  143 

In  the  North  Star  he  finds 

"  A  beauteous  type  of  that  unchanging  good, 
That  bright  eternal  beacon,  by  whose  ray 
The  voyager  of  time  should  shape  his  heedful  way." 

March,  the  most  abused  of  all  the  months  in  the 
calendar,  has  a  good  word  from  Bryant. 

"  The  year's  departing  beauty  hides, 

Of  wintry  storms  the  sullen  threat ; 
But  in  thy  sternest  frown  abides 
A  look  of  kindly  promise  yet. 

"Thou  bring' st  the  hope  of  those  calm  skies, 

And  that  soft  time  of  sunny  showers 

When  the  wide  bloom  on  earth  that  lies, 

Seems  of  a  brighter  world  than  ours." 

In   the   beautiful    boundless    "  firmament "   he 
finds  a  charm 

"  That  earth,  the  proud  green  earth,  has  not, 
With  all  the  forms,  and  hues,  and  airs, 

That  haunt  her  sweetest  spot. 
We  gaze  upon  thy  calm  pure  sphere, 

And  read  of  Heaven's  eternal  year. 

"  Oh,  when  amid  the  throng  of  men, 

The  heart  grows  sick  of  hollow  mirth, 

How  willingly  we  turn  us  then 
Away  from  this  cold  earth, 

And  look  into  thy  azure  breast. 

For  seats  of  innocence  and  rest !  " 

The    "  Fringed    Gentian "   preaches  to  him  of 
Hope  and  Immortality. 

"  Thou  comest  not  when  violets  lean 
O'er  wandering  brooks  and  springs  unseen, 
Or  columbines,  in  purple  dressed. 
Nod  o'er  the  ground-bird's  hidden  nest. 


144  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

"  Thou  waitest  late  and  com'st  alone, 
When  woods  are  bare  and  birds  are  flown, 
And  frosts  and  shortening-  days  portend 
The  aged  year  is  near  his  end. 

"  Then  doth  thy  sweet  and  quiet  eye 
Look  through  its  fringes  to  the  sky, 
Blue  —  blue  —  as  if  that  sky  let  fall 
A  flower  from  its  cerulean  wall. 

"  I  would  that  thus,  when  I  shall  see 
The  hour  of  death  draw  near  to  me, 
Hope,  blossoming  within  my  heart, 
May  look  to  heaven  as  I  depart." 

The  river  teaches  him  the  processes  of  moral 
purification :  — 

"  Oh,  glide  away  from  those  abodes  that  bring 
Pollution  to  thy  channel  and  make  foul 
Thy  once  clear  current ;  summon  thy  quick  waves 
And  dimpling  eddies  ;  linger  not,  but  haste, 
With  all  thy  waters,  haste  thee  to  the  deep, 
There  to  be  tossed  by  shifting  winds  and  rocked 
By  that  mysterious  force  which  lives  within 
The  sea's  immensity,  and  wields  the  weight 
Of  its  abysses,  swaying  to  and  fro 
The  billowy  mass,  until  the  stain,  at  length, 
Shall  wholly  pass  away,  and  thou  regain 
The  crystal  brightness  of  thy  mountain-spring." 

To  those  who  mourn  the  supposed  degeneracy 
of  their  time  he  says  :  — 

..."  Despair  not  of  their  fate  who  rise 
To  dwell  upon  the  earth  when  we  withdraw. 

"  Oh  no !   a  thousand  cheerful  omens  give 
Hope  of  yet  happier  days  whose  dawn  is  nigh. 

He  who  has  tamed  the  elements,  shall  not  live 
The  slave  of  his  own  passions ;  he  whose  eye 


THE  POET.  145 

Unwinds  the  eternal  dances  of  the  sky, 
And  in  the  abyss  of  brightness  dares  to  span 
The  sun's  broad  circle,  rising-  yet  more  high, 
In  God's  magnificent  works  his  will  shall  scan 
And  love  and  peace  shall  make  their  paradise  with  man." 

Even  natural  death  to  him  in  his  poetic  mood 
had  its  sunny  aspects.  Instead  of  treating  it  as  a 
penal  institution  only  to  be  dreaded,  the  thoughts 
of  which  "  come  like  a  blight  "  over  the  spirit,  — 

..."  and  sad  images 
Of  the  stern  agony,  and  shroud  and  pall, 
And  breathless  darkness  and  the  narrow  house, 
Make  thee  to  shudder  and  grow  sick  at  heart,"  — 

he  treats  it  as  "  a  ministry  of  life,"  a  change  as 
natural,  as  inevitable,  and  as  beneficent  as  the 
changes  of  the  seasons,  as  the  change  from  infancy 
to  maturity,  from  hunger  to  satiety,  from  sleeping 
to  waking,  and  from  waking  to  sleeping;  as  no 
more  the  penalty  of  sin  than  it  is  the  penalty  of 
virtue ;  a  change  which  the  good  are  just  as  certain 
to  experience  as  the  wicked,  the  rich  as  the  poor, 
the  noble  as  the  peasant.  And  therefore  when 
the  summons  comes  for  us  to  take  our 

"  Chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death," 
we  should  obey  it,  not 

"  Like  the  quarry  slave  at  night 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon,  but  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  .  .  . 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

There  are  none  who  will  gainsay  any  of  the 
great  truths  which  Nature  was  ever  teaching  this 
most  faithful  and  devout  of  her  disciples,  but  the 


146  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

number  of  those  who  comprehend  them  is  compara 
tively  limited.  "Every  one  that  is  of  the  truth 
heareth  his  voice."  But  alas !  how  many  of  us  are 
still  like  Pilate,  asking  "  What  is  truth  ?  "  To  such 
—  and  they  unhappily  constitute  the  great  body 
of  what  are  commonly  denominated  "  the  readin^ 
public  "  —  the  poetry  of  the  passions  and  the  ap 
petites,  the  poetry  which  derives  its  inspiration 
largely  from  our  sensuous  nature,  from  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh,  the  lusts  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of 
life,  is  the  most  attractive,  and  therefore  most  es 
teemed.  But  if,  as  Bryant  taught  and  believed, 
the  world's  moral  standards  are  steadilv  rising 

J  ft" 

and  the  supersensuous  is  gaining  upon  the  sensu 
ous  life,  or  what  Paul  calls  "  the  rudiments  of  the 
world  ;  "  if  our  affections  are  being  gradually  lifted 
up  from  the  verdure  of  the  field  which  to-day  is  and 
to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  to  the  hand  that 
clothes  the  field  with  this  verdure,  Bryant's  poems 
must  grow  in  popular  favor  and  take  a  rank  in  the 
world's  esteem  which  is  reserved  for  no  consider 
able  proportion  of  English  verse,  justifying  the 
prediction  of  his  friend  Halleck :  — 

"  Spring's  lovelier  flowers  for  many  a  day 

Have  blossomed  on  his  wandering1  way ; 

Beings  of  beauty  and  decay 

They  slumber  in  their  autumn  tomb  ; 

But  those  that  graced  his  own  Green  River 
And  wreathed  the  lattice  of  his  home, 
Charmed  by  his  song  from  mortal  doom 

Bloom  on  and  will  bloom  on  forever."  1 

1  It  may  interest  the  readers  of  these  pages  to  be  reminded  of 


THE  POET.  147 

What  has  been  said  will  serve  to  explain  the 
fact  that  Bryant  was  not  the  poet  of  "  occasions." 

what  has  been  said  of  the  rank  and  superior  "  staying-  power  "  of 
ethical  poetry  by  an  eminent  poet  whose  genius  gives  great  weight 
to  his  opinion,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  his  example. 

Byron,  in  the  course  of  his  once  famous  letter  to  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Bowles  in  defense  of  Pope,  wrote  : — 

"  In  my  mind  the  highest  of  all  poetry  is  ethical  poetry,  as  the 
highest  of  all  earthly  objects  must  be  moral  truth.  Religion 
does  not  make  a  part  of  my  subject ;  it  is  something  beyond 
human  powers,  and  has  failed  in  all  human  hands  except  Milton's 
and  Dante's,  and  even  Dante's  powers  are  involved  in  his  delin 
eation  of  human  passions,  though  in  supernatural  circumstances. 
What  made  Socrates  the  greatest  of  men  ?  His  moral  truth 
—  his  ethics.  What  proved  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God  hardly 
less  than  his  miracles  ?  His  moral  precepts.  And  if  ethics  have 
made  a  philosopher  the  first  of  men,  and  have  not  been  disdained 
as  an  adjunct  to  his  gospel  by  the  Deity  himself,  are  we  to  be 
told  that  ethical  poetry,  or  didactic  poetry,  or  by  whatever  name 
you  term  it  whose  object  is  to  make  men  better  and  wiser,  is  not 
the  very  first  order  of  poetry,  and  are  we  to  be  told  this,  too, 
by  one  of  the  priesthood  ?  It  requires  more  mind,  more  wisdom, 
more  power,  than  all  the  '  forests '  that  ever  were  '  walked  ' 
for  their  description  and  all  the  epics  that  ever  were  founded 
upon  fields  of  battle.  The  Georgics  are  indisputably  and,  I 
believe,  undisputedly  even  a  finer  poem  than  the  ^Eneid.  Virgil 
knew  this.  He  did  not  order  them  to  be  burnt. 

' '  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man.  It  is  the  fashion  of  the 
day  to  lay  great  stress  upon  what  they  call  '  imagination '  and 
'  invention,'  the  two  commonest  of  qualities :  an  Irish  peasant 
with  a  little  whiskey  in  his  head  will  imagine  and  invent  more 
than  would  furnish  forth  a  modern  poem.  If  Lucretius  had  not 
been  spoiled  by  the  Epicurean  system,  we  should  have  had  a  far 
superior  poem,  to  any  now  in  existence.  As  mere  poetry  it  is  the 
first  of  Latin  poems.  What,  then,  had  ruined  it  ?  His  ethics. 
Pope  has  not  this  defect.  His  moral  is  as  pure  as  his  poetry  is 
glorious.  ...  It'  any  great  natural  or  national  convulsion  could 
or  should  overwhelm  your  country  in  such  sort  as  to  sweep  Great 
Britain  from  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  leave  only  that,  after 


148  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

His  muse  was  never  prostituted  to  the  service  of 
his  own  or  any  public  vanity  or  passion.  When  lie 
put  on  his  singing  robes  there  was  always  some 
thing  more  or  less  pontifical  in  the  rites  that  were 
to  be  celebrated.  The  spirit  of  poesy  descended 
upon  him  only  upon  the  Sabbaths  of  his  soul.  He 
seemed  to  lay  aside  for  the  time  all  worldly  con 
siderations,  and  to  hold  communion  with  the  spirits 
of  the  just  made  perfect.  If  he  took  an  occasion 
or  a  name  for  his  theme,  it  must  be  one  standing 
in  universal  and  everlasting  relations  with  human 
ity.  He  was,  of  course,  constantly  appealed  to,  to 
lend  dignity  to  events  of  transient  interest  and 
local  importance,  and  his  ingenuity  was  constantly 
taxed  to  provide  excuses  for  declining  to  become 
the  poetical  interpreter  of  fleeting  popular  emo 
tions. 

In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Charles  Sedgwick  in  1865, 
he  said  :  — 

"  It  is  riot  my  intention  to  deliver  a  poem  at 
Williams  College,  or  anywhere  else.  I  once  deliv 
ered  a  Phi  Beta  Kappa  poem  at  Cambridge,  and  that 

all,  the  most  living  of  human  things,  a  dead  language,  to  be  studied 
and  read  and  imitated  by  the  wise  of  future  and  far  generations, 
upon  foreign  shores  ;  if  your  literature  should  become  the  learning 
of  mankind,  divested  of  party  cabals,  temporary  fashions,  and  na 
tional  pride  and  prejudice,  an  Englishman  anxious  that  the  pos 
terity  should  know  that  there  had  been  such  a  thing  as  a  British 
Epic  and  Tragedy,  might  wish  for  the  preservation  of  Shake 
speare  and  Milton ;  but  the  surviving  world  would  snatch  Pope 
from  the  wreck  and  let  the  rest  sink  with  the  people.  He  is  the 
moral  poet  of  all  civilization  ;  and  as  such  let  us  hope  that  he 
will  one  day  be  the  national  poet  of  mankind." 


THE  POET.  149 

was  forty-four  years  ago,  but  since  that  time  I  have 
uniformly  declined  all  requests  to  do  the  like,  and  I 
get  several  every  year.  It  is  an  undertaking  for 
young  men.  If  I  could  be  put  back  to  twenty-six 
years  and  my  wife  with  me,  I  might  do  it  again  ; 
youth  is  the  season  for  such  imprudence.  I  should 
never  be  able  to  satisfy  myself  in  the  composition  of 
a  poem  on  such  an  occasion ;  and  then  it  should  be  an 
exceedingly  clever  thing,  —  not  a  work  for  the 
closet,  though  ;  and  admirably  read  —  read  as  you 
would  read  it,  and  as  few  can,  not  to  bore  the  audi 
ence.  You  have  observed  that  such  poems,  with 
few,  very  few  exceptions,  are  unspeakably  tiresome.'* 
Writing  to  his  brother  John  in  1 874,  he  says :  — 
"  The  poem  you  speak  of  I  suppose  you  hardly 
expected  me  to  compose.  Such  things  as  occa 
sional  poems  I  have  for  many  years  left  to  younger 
men ;  besides  which  there  is  nothing  more  tire 
some  and  flat  than  a  poem  read  at  a  public  cele 
bration  of  any  event  ;  nothing  more  unintelligible, 
unless  the  poem  be  read  with  exceeding  skill,  and 
the  better  the  poem  is,  the  less,  as  a  general  rule, 
it  is  understood  by  a  promiscuous  assembly.  The 
only  use  of  verses  on  such  occasions  is  when  they 
take  the  shape  of  a  short  ode  and  are  sung." 

It  was  not,  I  think,  merely  a  distaste,  strong  as  it 
was,  for  this  kind  of  work,  but  a  well-grounded 
distrust  of  his  ability  to  succeed  in  it,  which  in 
many  if  not  most  of  these  cases  controlled  his  de 
cision.  It  seems  as  though  his  muse  could  only 
breathe  in  the  Empyrean.  It  would  have  stifled 


l.r)0  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

in  the  mephitism  of  Grub  Street.  Anything  that 
localized  or  temporized  his  theme  seemed  to  par 
alyze  him.  There  were  some  circumstances  in  the 
condition  of  the  country  in  1838,  just  after  Presi 
dent  Jackson's  successful  battle  with  nullification, 
which  persuaded  him  that  he  should  accept  an  in 
vitation  from  the  New  York  Historical  Society  to 
deliver  a  poem  before  that  body  on  the  occasion  of 
its  fiftieth  anniversary,  when  John  Quincy  Adams 
was  to  deliver  the  oration.  He  wrote  the  poem  in 
four  stanzas,  to  be  sung  by  the  choir,  beginning 

"  Great  were  the  hearts,  and  strong1  the  minds, 

Of  those  who  framed  in  high  debate 
The  immortal  league  of  Love  that  binds 
Our  fair,  broad  empire,  State  with  State." 

It  appeared  to  suit  everybody  but  himself.  It 
was  a  temple  that  had  not  been  built  as  he  thought 
the  temples  of  the  muses  should  always  be  built, 
without  the  noise  of  hammer  or  of  axe.  He  never 
included  it  in  any  collection  of  his  works. 

He  was  requested  to  prepare  an  ode  for  the 
opening  ceremonies  at  the  Universal  Exhibition 
of  the  Centennial  year  ab  Philadelphia.  In  his 
reply  to  Mr.  Hawley,  the  president  of  the  commis 
sion,  he  said  :  — 

"I  am  sensible  of  the  compliment  paid  me  in 
requesting  me  to  compose  a  poem  for  the  Centen 
nial  Exhibition  at  Philadelphia.  It  will  not  be  in 
my  power  to  comply  with  the  request  for  several 
reasons.  One  is  old  age,  which  is  another  form  of 
ill-health,  and  implies  a  decline  of  both  the  bodily 


THE  POET.  151 

and  mental  faculties.  Another  is  the  difficulty  of 
satisfying  myself  in  writing  verses  for  particular 
occasions,  a  circumstance  which  has  of  late  caused 
me  to  decline  all  applications  of  this  nature." 

Set  into  an  old  Roman  wall  in  an  old  town  in 
the  south  of  France  may  still  be  seen  a  memorial 
stone,  on  which  are  inscribed  the  words  Saltavit 
et  placuit.  This  is  all  the  record  we  have  of  the 
life-work  of  a  Roman  slave  who  died  at  the  age  of 
fifteen.  He  was  a  popular  favorite.  He  danced 
and  he  pleased.  The  same  epitaph  would  answer 
for  many  popular  poets.  If  Dryden  had  "  de 
bauched  the  stage,"  he  said,  "  it  was  to  please  the 
prince  ;  '*  claiming  in  the  words  of  the  well-worn 
couplet  that 

"The  Drama's  laws,  the  Drama's  patrons  give, 
And  they  who  live  to  please  must  please  to  live." 

Dr.  Young  also  saltavit  et  placuit.  He  felt  con 
strained  to  omit  from  the  collection  of  what  he 
termed  his  "  Excusable  Poems  "  many  addressed 
to  the  people  of  the  highest  rank  in  England  ; 
snch  as  his  "Epistle  to  Lord  Lansdowne,"  his 
dedication  of  "  The  Last  Day  "  to  Queen  Anne  ; 
and  of  "  The  Force  of  Religion  or  Vanquished 
Love  "  to  the  Countess  of  Salisbury  ;  "  The  Poem 
on  the  Accession  of  George  I.,"  and  several  others. 

Bryant's  muse  begat  no  offspring  which  his  de 
scendants  will  ever  blush  to  recognize. 

It  was  Bryant's  notion  that  the  life  should  be  a 
true  poem  of  him  who  would  himself  be  a  true 


152  WILLIAM:  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

poet.  Like  Milton  he  drew  the  inspiration  of  his 
poems  "  neither  from  the  heat  of  youth  nor  from 
the  vapours  of  wine  like  that  which  flows  at  waste 
from  the  pen  of  some  vulgar  amourist  or  the 
trencher  fury  of  some  rhyming  parasite,"  but 
from 

"  Siloa's  brook  that  flows 
Fast  by  the  Oracle  of  God." 

It  is  one  of  his  great  distinctions  that  he  never 
wrote  a  line,  either  in  verse  or  prose,  that  coun 
tenanced  a  degrading  impulse,  an  unclean  thought, 
a  mischievous  propensity,  or  an  unmanly  act ;  and 
this  too  in  a  period  of  our  literature  when  for  none 
of  the  poets  most  read  could  their  most  ardent 
admirers  claim  any  one  of  these  distinctions. 
Bacon  pleaded  the  distinction  between  vitia  tem- 
poris  and  vitia  hominis  in  palliation  of  his  offi 
cial  venality.  Whatever  force  this  distinction 
may  have  had  in  Bacon's  case,  it  cannot  be  in 
voked  to  diminish  in  any  degree  the  exceptional 
merit  of  Bryant's  example.  When  he  began  to 
be  known  as  a  poet,  the  reign  of  baseness  and  bru 
tality  in  literature  which  followed  the  restoration 
of  the  Stuarts  in  England,  and  "  which,"  said 
Macaulay,  "  never  could  be  recalled  without  a 
blush,"  had  not  come  to  an  end.  The  most  popu 
lar  poets  at  the  beginning  of  this  century  owed  no 
inconsiderable  share  of  their  popularity  to  verses 
which  would  now  scarcely  receive  hospitality  from 
any  respectable  periodical.  It  is,  we  hope,  with  a 
pardonable  pride  that  we  allow  ourselves  to  ob- 


THE  POET.  153 

serve  that  t-he  same  exalted  sense  of  the  poet's 
calling  has  characterized  all  the  verse  written  in 
the  English  tongue  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic 
that  has  enjoyed  any  considerable  measure  of  pop 
ular  favor.  Following  his  own  advice  to  the  poet, 
slightly  paraphrased,  — 

"  He  let  no  empty  gust 

Of  passion  find  an  utterance  in  his  lay, 
A  blast  that  whirls  the  dust 

Along  the  crowded  street  and  dies  away  ; 
But  feelings  of  calm  power  and  mighty  sweep, 
Like  currents  journeying  through  the  windless  deep." 

As  water  in  crystallizing  excludes  all  foreign  in 
gredients,  and  out  of  acids,  alkalies,  and  other  solu 
tions  yields  a  crystal  of  perfect  purity  and  sweet 
ness,  so  his  thoughts  in  passing  into  verse  seemed 
to  separate  themselves  from  everything  that  was 
transient  or  vulgar.  Plis  poems  have  come  to  us 
as  completely  freed  from  every  trace  of  what  is 
of  the  earth  earthy  as  if,  like  St.  Luke's  pictures, 
they  had  received  their  finishing  touch  from  the 
angels. 

Of  poetic  inspiration   or  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  poetry  of  a  high  order  is  produced,  —  that 
exaltation  of  the  faculties  in  which  high  thoughts 
come  into  the  mind  and  clothe  themselves  in  apt 
words,  —  Bryant's    views    serve    to    illustrate    the 
statement  already  made,  that  he  was  not  a  man  of  / 
moods  and  tenses,  and  that  his  seasons  for  produc 
tive  labor  did  not  alternate  like  the  seasons  of  the  I 
calendar  year,  or  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tides. 


154  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT 

"  I  cannot  say,"  he  wrote  to  a  gentleman  who 
had  addressed  him  some  inquiries  upon  the  sub 
ject,  "  that  in  writing  my  poems  I  am  directly 
conscious  of  the  action  of  an  outside  intelligence, 
but  I  sometimes  wonder  whence  the  thoughts  come, 
and  they  seem  to  me  hardly  my  own.  Sometimes 
in  searching  for  the  adequate  expression,  it  seems 
suddenly  darted  into  my  mind  like  a  ray  of  light 
into  a  dark  room,  and  gives  me  a  kind  of  sur 
prise.  I  don't  invoke  the  muse  at  all. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  inspiration  has  no  more 
to  do  with  one  intellectual  process  than  another, 
and  that  if  there  is  such  a  thing  it  might  be  present 
as  directly  in  the  solutions  of  a  problem  of  high 
mathematics  as  in  a  copy  of  verses." 

Bryant  seems  never  to  have  attempted  to  place 
his  fame  under  the  protection  of  a  long  poem.  Of 
the  one  hundred  and  sixty  poems  which  he  left  us, 
the  average  length  is  only  seventy-five  lines.  He 
did  not  believe  in  long  poems.  It  was  a  theory  of 
his  that  short  poems  might  perhaps  be  chained  to 
gether  with  links  of  verse,/ so  as  to  add  some  to 
their  commercial  but  not  to  their  poetical  value  ; 
that  a  long  poem  was  as  impossible  as  a  long  ecs 
tasy  ;  that  what  is  called  a  long  poem,  like  "  Para 
dise  Lost "  and  the  "  Divine  Comedy,"  is  a  mere 
succession  of  poems  strung  together  upon  a  thread 
of  verse ;  the  thread  of  verse  serving  sometimes  to 
popularize  them  by  adapting  them  to  a  wider  range 
of  literary  taste,  or  a  more  sluggish  intellectual 
digestion.  He  was  often  urged  by  his  friend 


THE  POET.  155 

Dana,  and  indeed  by  most  of  his  intimate  friends, 
to  undertake  a  long  poem.  In  his  younger  days 
he  seems  to  have  dreamed  of  such  a  work,  but 
early  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  a  long  poem,  and  if  there  was,  that 
Apollo  had  not  provided  him  with  the  sort  of  lyre 
to  render  it.  Loyalty  to  his  journal,  too,  may 
have  had  something  to  do  with  his  never  attempt 
ing  it.  Those  who  are  most  familiar  with  Bryant's 
poetry  will  now  probably  be  agreed  that  the  ethi 
cal,  which  in  the  language  of  a  sister  art  is  called 
the  motif,  of  all  his  verse  in  which  reflection  ruled, 
subordinating  if  not  excluding  all  the  demonstra 
tions  of  passion,  would  be  fatal  to  the  success  of  a 
long  poem. 

William  Walsh,  whom  Dryden  pronounced  the 
best  critic  of  his  time  in  England,  gave  Pope  a  bit 
of  advice  which  has  become  famous :  "  We  had 
had  great  poets,"  he  said,  "  but  never  one  great 
poet  that  was  correct,"  and  he  accordingly  recom 
mended  Pope  to  make  correctness  his  great  aim. 

Of  the  wisdom  of  this  advice  Bryant  seems  to 
have  been  more  thoroughly  penetrated  than  the 
poet  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  The  correctness 
of  his  measure  and  the  conscientious  fidelity  of  his 
rhymes  are  apt  to  arrest  the  attention  and  compel 
the  ad  miration  of  even  the  careless  reader.  No  poet 
probably  ever  knew  better  than  he  the  technique 
of  the  art  of  "  building  the  lofty  rhyme."  Dana 
urged  him  to  write  a  book  on  the  laws  of  metre, 
of  which  at  a  very  early  age  he  had  made  himself 


156  W1L  L I  A  M  CULL  EX  BR  YA  NT. 

a  master.  And  yet,  though  critics  concur  in  pro 
nouncing  his  verse  unfailingly  graceful  and  melo 
dious,  Mr.  Bryant  had  no  ear  nor  taste  for  music. 
Whatever  inconvenience  or  loss  of  enjoyment  he 
may  have  experienced  from  this  insensibility,  there 
is  no  evidence  that  either  his  verse  or  prose  suf 
fered  in  consequence,  while  both,  as  asserted  by  an 
accomplished  English  critic,  "  partook  in  an  emi 
nent  degree  of  that  curious  and  almost  rarefied 
refinement  in  which  oddly  enough  American  liter 
ature  seems  to  surpass  even  the  literature  of  the 
Old  World."  i 

1  The  French  poet  Malherbe  exhibits  another  instance  of  a 
poet  who  was  a  master  of  versification,  though  like  Bryant  des 
titute  of  the  musical  sense.  D'Alembert  says  of  him  :  — 

"  Malherbe,  dont  le  vrai  nitrite  est  d'avoir  mis  le  premier,  dans 
les  vers  frantjais,  de  1' harmonic  et  de  Yth'gance,  comme  1'a  dit  lui- 
meme  avec  tant  d'e'le'gance  et  d' harmonic  le  Idgislateur  Des- 
preaux. 

"  On  pretend  que  ce  meme  Malherbe,  si  sensible  a  1'harmonie 
des  vers,  et  qui  en  a  e'te'  le  cre'ateur  parmi  nous,  e'tait  absolument 
de'mele'  d' oreille  pour  la  musique.  Plus  d'un  homme  de  lettres 
c&ebre  a  e^e*  dans  ce  cas,  et  meme  en  a  fait  1'aveu.  Juste  Lipse 
et  Manage  e*taient  de  ce  nombre,  sans  parler  de  beaucoup  d'au- 
tres.  Le  second  de  ces  deux  savans  faisait  pourtant  des  vers  en 
quatre  langues,  en  latin,  en  grec,  en  italien  et  meme  en  frangais. 
Cette  insensibility  musicale,  meme  dans  un  poe'te,  est  peut-etre 
moins  surprenante  qu'on  ne  pourrait  le  croire.  La  me"lodie  du 
chant  et  celle  des  vers  quoiquelles  aient  pour  ainsi  dire  quelques 
points  d'attouchement  communs  sorit  trop  se'pare'es  et  trop  diffe*- 
rents  a  d'autres  e*gards,  pour  qu'une  oreille  vivement  affecte'e  de 
1'une,  soit  necessairement  entraine'e  et  subjiigue'e  par  1'autre,  sur- 
tout  si  la  melodie  musicale  est  renforce'e,  pour  ne  pas  dire  trou 
ble*  e  par  les  effets  bruyants  de  1'harmonie  moderne :  effets  que 
1' oreille  delicate  des  anciens  parait  n'avoir  pas  sentis  ou  peut- 
etre  qu'elle  a  reprouve's. " 


THE  POET.  157 

By  some  process  as  mysterious  as  the  leafing  of 
the  forests  or  the  swelling  of  the  tides,  Bryant 
manaed  to  make  himself  familiar  with  most  of  the  / 


the  world  that  had  a  literature.    Like 
Sir  Henry  Wotton,  — 

"So  many  languages  had  he  in  store 
That  only  fame  could  speak  of  him  in  more." 

Besides  an  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  and 
Latin  tongues,  which  many  who  have  made  these 
studies  a  specialty  might  have  envied,  he  had  a 
critical  knowledge  of  German,  French,  Spanish, 
Portuguese,  Italian,  and  modern  Greek,  to  which 
during  his  travels  in  the  East  he  added  more  than 
a  smattering  of  Arabic.  When  it  is  borne  in 
mind  that  he  acquired  them  all  in  the  leisure  econ 
omized  from  one  of  the  most  unrelenting  profes 
sions,  we  can  realize  the  amazing  faculty,  the  high 
discipline  and  admirable  husbandry  of  time  and 
force,  which  enabled  him  like  Ulysses  '*  to  do  so 
many  things  so  well."  The  French  say,  "  Ce  qui 
n'est  pas  clair  n'est  pas  Francais."  Bryant  thought 
that  verses  that  were  obscure  were  not  poetry. 
His  constitutional  aversion  to  sham  of  all  kinds  no 
doubt  had  its  share  in  begetting  this  aversion.  He 
would  as  soon  have  invoked  the  aid  of  a  brass  band 
to  secure  an  audience  as  to  lend  himself  to  any 
meretricious  devices  for  extorting  admiration. 
Such  he  regarded  all  surprising  novelties  of  ex 
pression  and  all  subtleties  of  thought  which  the 
common  apprehension  does  not  readily  accept.  He 
felt  that  no  poem  was  fit  to  leave  his  hand  if  a 


158  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

word  or  a  line  in  it  betrayed  affectation  or  required 
study  to  be  understood. 

His  doc-trine  upon  this  subject  is  thus  briefly  set 
forth  in  his  introduction  to  "  A  Library  of  Poetry 
and  Song- :  " 

"  To  me  it  seems  that  one  of  the  most  impor 
tant  requisites  for  a  great  poet  is  a  luminous  style. 
The  elements  of  poetry  lie  in  natural  objects,  in 
the  vicissitudes  of  human  life,  in  the  emotions  of 
the  human  heart,  and  the  relations  of  man  to  man. 
He  who  can  present  them  in  combinations  and 
lights  which  at  once  affect  the  mind  with  a  deep 
sense  of  their  truth  and  beauty  is  the  poet  for  his 
own  age  and  the  ages  that  succeed  him.  .  .  .  The 
metaphysician,  the  subtle  thinker,  the  dealer  in 
abstruse  speculations,  whatever  his  skill  in  versifi 
cation,  misapplies  it  when  he  abandons  the  more 
convenient  form  of  prose,  and  perplexes  himself 
with  the  attempt  to  express  his  ideas  in  poetic  num 
bers." 

In  a  letter  to  the  Century  Club,  on  the  occasion 
of  Bryant's  seventieth  birthday,  Edward  Everett 
pays  a  special  tribute  to  this  quality  of  the  poet's 
verse. 

"  I  particularly  enjoy  Bryant's  poetry  because  I  can 
understand  it.  It  is  probably  a  sign  that  I  am  some 
what  behind  the  age,  that  I  have  but  little  relish  for 
elaborate  obscurity  in  literature,  of  which  you  find  it 
difficult  to  study  out  the  meaning  and  are  not  sure  you 
have  hit  upon  it  at  last.  This  is  too  much  the  charac 
ter  of  the  modern  English  school.  .  .  .  Surprise,  con- 


THE  POET.  159 

ceit,  strange  combinations  of  imagery  and  expression 
may  be  successfully  managed,  but  it  is  merit  of  an  in 
ferior  kind.  The  truly  beautiful,  pathetic,  and  sub 
lime  is  always  simple  and  natural  and  marked  by  a 
certain  serene  unconsciousness  of  effort.  This  is  the 
character  of  Mr.  Bryant's  poetry." 

He  often  amused  himself  with  translating  from 
foreign  tongues  the  verses  that  particularly  pleased 
him,  and  there  were  very  few  thus  honored  by  his 
choice  that  were  not  to  be  congratulated  upon  the 
new  garb  in  which  he  arrayed  them.  Later  in 
life,  and  when  invention  became  too  fatiguing  to 
be  more  than  an  occasional  resource,  he  found  in 
translation  an  agreeable  employment.  We  find 
the  first  intimation  of  this  in  a  note  to  Dana  dated 
May,  1863. 

"  I  have  been  looking  over  Cowper's  translation 
of  Homer  lately,  and  comparing  it  with  the  origi 
nal.  It  has  astonished  me  that  one  who  wrote 
such  strong  English  in  his  original  compositions 
should  have  put  Homer,  who  wrote  also  with  sim 
plicity  and  spirit,  into  such  phraseology  as  he  has 
done.  For  example,  when  Ulysses  in  the  fifth 
book  of  the  Odyssey  asks  '  What  will  become  of 
me.'  Cowper  makes  him  say  :  — 

"  '  What  destiny  at  last  attends  me  ?  ' 

and  so  on.  The  greater  part  is  in  such  stilted 
phrase,  and  all  the  freedom  and  fire  of  the  old 
poet  is  lost." 

Old  age  affected  the  quantity  rather  than  the 
quality  of  Bryant's  verse.  We  have  lines  written 


160  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

after  he  was  eighty  which  will  compare  not  unfa 
vorably  with  anything  he  had  written  before.  But 
his  inspiration  came^  at  longer  intervals,  and  for 
obvious  reasons  was  less  fervently  invited.  After 
seventy,  when  the  grasshopper  becomes  a  burden, 
he  sought  pleasant  rather  than  exciting  occupation 
for  his  mind,  and  this  he  found  in  transferring  into 
English  blank  verse  the  works  of  the  great  master 
of  Epic  Poetry.  "  I  find  it  a  pastime,"  he  wrote 
to  his  friend,  Professor  Alden.  "At  my  time  of  life 
it  is  somewhat  dangerous  to  tax  the  brain  to  any 
great  extent.  Whatever  requires  invention,  what 
ever  compels  one  to  search  both  for  new  thoughts 
and  adequate  expressions  wherewith  to  clothe  them, 
makes  a  severe  demand  on  the  intellect  and  the 
nervous  system,  —  at  least  I  have  found  it  so.  In 
translating  poetry,  —  at  least  in  translating  with 
such  freedom  as  blank  verse  allows,  —  my  only 
trouble  is  with  the  expression  ;  the  thoughts  are 
already  at  hand." 

It  is  with  poets  as  with  other  men.  When  they 
are  old  they  shall  stretch  forth  their  hands  and  an 
other  shall  gird  them.  It  was  Bryant's  choice  not 
unnaturally  when  the  time  came  for  him  to  be 
girded  to  choose  one  of  his  own  kind  to  gird  him  ; 
to  supply  him  with  the  invention  and  the  thoughts 
for  which  he  should  only  be  required  to  supply 
the  raiment. 

In  the  fall  of  1863,  a  translation  of  some  pas 
sages  from  the  fifth  book  of  the  Odyssey  with 
which  he  had  been  amusing  himself  appeared  in 


THE  POET.  161 

the  "  Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  at  the  close  of  1863, 
he  republished  it  in  a  collection  of  his  more  recent 
verses,  which  appeared  under  the  somewhat  depress 
ing  title  of  "  Thirty  Poems."  The  reception  it 
met  with  from  scholars  as  well  as  poets  was  so  en 
couraging  that  he  tried  his  hand  with  some  pas 
sages  of  the  Iliad.  The  death  of  Mrs.  Bryant  in 
the  summer  of  1866  increased  his  indisposition 
for  severe  work  and  his  need  for  distracting  em 
ployment.  The  translations  from  Homer  answered 
this  purpose  so  well  that  he  finally  resolved  to 
translate  the  whole  of  the  Iliad.  He  sailed  on  his 
sixth  voyage  to  Europe  in  October  of  that  year 
with  a  copy  of  Homer  in  his  pocket,  and  a  fixed 
purpose  of  rendering  at  least  forty  lines  of  the  old 
Greek  into  English  every  day.  He  frequently  ex 
ceeded  this  number,  and  as  he  became  inured  to  the 
work,  not  unfrequently  increased  the  number  to 
seventy-five.  This  was  his  early  morning  work, 
and  even  after  his  return  was  never  allowed  to  in 
terfere  with  his  customary  professional  avocations. 
Writing  to  his  brother  John  in  February,  1869, 
he  said  :  "  I  have  just  finished  my  translation  of 
the  twelfth  book  of  Homer's  Iliad.  In  regard 
to  what  you  say  about  Homer  I  would  observe 
that  Pope's  translation  is  more  periphrastic  than 
mine  and  will  probably  have  several  thousand 
more  lines.  I  have  yet  somewhat  more  than 
seven  thousand  of  the  original  to  translate.  Yes 
terday  I  translated  sixty  of  the  Greek,  making 
some  seventy  or  eighty  in  my  shorter  blank  verse, 


162  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

but  generally  I  cannot  do  so  much,  —  sometimes 
not  more  than  forty." 

These  first  twelve  books  of  his  version  of  the 
Iliad  were  published  by  Fields,  Osgood  &  Co  , 
of  Boston,  in  February,  1870,  and  the  second  vol 
ume,  containing  the  remainder  of  the  poem,  in 
June  of  the  same  year.  In  the  preface  he  informs 
us  that  he  began  the  work  in  1865,  but  afterwards 
gave  himself  up  to  it  the  more  willingly  because  it 
helped  in  some  measure  to  divert  his  mind  from  a 
great  domestic  sorrow.  "  I  am  not  sure,"  he  adds, 
"  that,  when  it  shall  be  concluded,  it  may  not  cost 
me  some  regret  to  part  with  so  interesting  a  com 
panion  as  the  old  Greek  poet,  with  whose  thoughts 
I  have  for  four  years  past  been  occupied,  though 
with  interruptions,  in  the  endeavor  to  transfer 
from  his  own  grand  musical  Greek  to  our  less  so 
norous  but  still  manly  and  flexible  tongue." 

He  tells  us  of  his  endeavor  to  be  strictly  faithful 
in  his  rendering,  "  to  add  nothing  of  his  own,  and 
to  give  the  reader,  so  far  as  our  language  would 
allow,  all  that  he  found  in  the  original."  He  was 
at  equal  pains,  he  assures  us,  to  preserve  the  sim 
plicity  of  style  of  the  old  poet,  "  who  wrote  for  the 
popular  ear  and  according  to  the  genius  of  his 
language.  I  have  chosen  such  English  as  offers 
no  violence  to  the  ordinary  usages  and  structure  of 
our  own.  I  have  sought  to  attain  what  belongs  to 
the  original  —  affluent  narrative  style  which  shall 
carry  the  reader  forward  without  the  impediment 
of  unexpected  inversions  and  capricious  phrases, 


THE  POET.  163 

and  in  which,  if  he  find  nothing  to  stop  at  and 
admire,  there  will  at  least  be  nothing  to  divert  his 
attention  from  the  story  and  the  characters  of  the 
poem,  from  the  events  related  and  the  objects  de 
scribed."  He  disagrees  with  Pope,  who  doubted 
whether  a  poem  could  be  supported  without  rhyme 
in  our  language,  unless  stiffened  with  such  strong 
words  as  would  destroy  the  language  itself. 
Bryant  assigns  as  his  reason  for  choosing  blank 
verse  for  his  Homer,  that  it  enabled  him  to  keep 
more  closely  to  the  original  without  any  sacrifice 
either  of  ease  or  spirit.  "  The  use  of  rhyme  in  a 
translation  is  a  constant  temptation  to  petty  in 
fidelities,  and  to  the  employment  of  expressions 
which  have  an  air  of  constraint  and  do  not  the 
most  adequately  convey  the  thought."  He  did 
not  adopt  the  ballad  measure  because  the  Homeric 
poems  seemed  to  him  beyond  the  popular  ballads 
of  any  modern  nation  in  reach  of  thought  and  in 
richness  of  phraseology.  "  If  I  had  adopted  that 
form  of  poetry,"  he  says,  "  there  would  have  been 
besides  the  disadvantage  of  rhyme,  a  temptation 
to  make  the  version  conform  in  style  and  spirit  to 
the  old  ballads  of  our  own  literature  in  a  degree 
which  the  original  does  not  warrant,  and  which,  as 
I  think,  would  lead  to  some  sacrifice  of  its  dignity." 
Bryant's  reasons  for  preferring  blank  verse  for 
this  poem  all  have  weight,  and  with  a  translator 
approaching  his  eightieth  year  they  were  conclu 
sive.  But  no  one  can  doubt  that  the  position 
which  Pope's  version  of  Homer  holds  in  our  liter- 


164  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

ature  is  very  largely  due  to  its  measure  and  rhyme, 
nor  that  Bryant's  translation  would  have  been  more 
widely  popular,  if  less  faithful,  had  it  been  tuned 
like  Pope's  to  the  popular  ear.  But  to  a  person  so 
conscientious  about  his  rhymes,  about  the  correct 
ness  of  his  verse  and  the  fidelity  of  his  translation, 
as  Bryant,  the  use  of  rhyme  implied  an  enormous 
increase  of  labor  from  which  he  shrank,  and  which 
would  have  deprived  his  task  of  what  to  him  was 
its  chief  attraction,  its  recreatory  character.  Had 
he  undertaken  this  task  twenty  or  even  ten  years 
earlier,  and  given  it  the  charm  of  rhyme,  it  would 
probably  have  soon  extinguished  forever  all  popu 
lar  interest  in  every  other  translation  in  our  lan 
guage.  Whether  it  would  have  stood  as  high  in  the 
estimation  of  scholars,  whether  the  proportions  of 
Homer  to  Bryant  in  it  would  have  been  the  same 
as  in  this  version,  we  have  his  own  authority  for 
doubting,  but  we  should  certainly  have  had  a 
Homer  which  would  have  fascinated  a  larger  num 
ber.  Without  rhyme,  however,  it  was  a  great  lit- 
erary  success.  It  was  received  with  unqualified 
admiration  by  the^ghest  poetical  and  scholarly 
authorities  as  welflHt^lie  press  of  his  country. 

"  It  is  commendBplie  wrote  to  Dana,  "in  quar 
ters  where  my  orflBp.  poems  are,  I  suspect,  not 
much  thought  of,  and  I  sometimes  fancy  that  pos 
sibly  it  is  thought  that  I  am  more  successful  as  a 
translator  than  in  anything  else,  which  you  know 
is  not  the  highest  praise.  I  did  not  find  the  work 
of  rendering  Homer  into  blank  verse  very  fa- 


THE  POET.  165 

tiguing,  and  perhaps  it  was  the  most  suitable  liter 
ary  occupation  for  an  old  man  like  me,  who  feels 
the  necessity  of  being  busy  about  something  and 
yet  does  not  like  hard  work." 

To  his  old  pastor,  Dr.  Dewey,  he  wrote  :  — 
"  I  can  imagine  that  on  laying  down  the  volume 
you  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  —  one  of  those 
grateful  sighs  significant  alike  of  the  trouble  that 
has  been  taken  and  the  satisfaction  we  feel  that  it 
is  over.  Do  you  remember  Pope's  line  :  — 

"  '  And  Congreve  loved  and  Swift  endured  my  lays '  ? 

It  is  not  every  poet  that  has  a  friend  capable  of 
enduring  four  hundred  pages  of  his  verse. 

"  I  am  really  glad  that  you  can  speak  so  kindly 
of  my  translation.  It  is  well  received  so  far,  and 
sells  well,  I  'rn  told,  for  so  costly  a  publication.  I 
am  almost  ashamed  to  see  it  got  up  in  so  expensive 
a  manner.  Democrat  as  I  am,  I  would,  if  the  mat 
ter  had  been  left  to  my  discretion,  have  published 
it  in  as  cheap  a  form  as  is  consistent  with  neatness 
and  a  good  fair  legible  type.  I  like  very  well  to 
see  it  in  that  large  type,  but  I  should  have  made 
it  a  book  for  persons  of  small  means,  that  is  to  say 
if  they  chose  to  buy  it." 

Bryant  realized,  as  he  had  apprehended  he 
should,  that  the  old  Greek  poet  was  too  interesting 
a  companion  to  part  with  without  regret,  and  he 
determined,  therefore,  to  postpone  their  parting  as 
long  as  possible.  Before  the  Iliad  was  through 
the  press  he  had  begnn  to  translate  the  Odyssey. 


166  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Writing  to  his  brother  John  on  the  1st  of  July, 
1870,  he  says  :  — 

"  1  have  begun  the  translation  of  the  Odyssey, 
but  I  do  not  intend  to  hurry  the  task,  nor  even  to 
translate  with  as  much  diligence  as  I  translated 
the  Iliad  ;  so  I  may  never  finish  it.  But  it  will 
give  me  an  occupation  which  will  not  be  an  irk 
some  one,  and  will  furnish  me  with  a  reason  for 
declining  other  literary  tasks  and  a  hundred  other 
engagements  which  I  want  some  other  excuse  be 
sides  old  age  for  declining." 

The  feeling  that  the  number  of  working  days  in 
reserve  for  him  at  the  most  was  very  limited  had 
its  effect  in  securing  for  the  Odyssey  a  precedence 
among  his  numerous  engagements  which  had  not 
been  accorded  to  the  Iliad,  for  by  the  close  of 
April,  1871,  the  first  volume  of  twelve  books  was 
in  the  printer's  hands,  and,  before  the  year  closed, 
the  whole  work  was  ready  for  the  press.  "  There 
was  110  need,"  he  wrote  his  publisher  in  April, 
"  that  you  should  exhort  me  to  be  diligent  in  put 
ting  the  Odyssey  into  blank  verse.  I  have  been 
as  industrious  as  was  reasonable.  I  understand 
very  well  that  at  my  time  of  life  such  enterprises 
are  apt  to  be  brought  to  a  conclusion  before  they 
are  finished.  And  I  have  therefore  wrought  harder 
upon  my  task  than  some  of  rny  friends  thought 
was  well  for  me.  I  have  already  sent  forward 
the  MSS.  for  the  first  volume.  You  may  remem 
ber  that  I  finished  my  translation  of  the  Iliad 
within  the  time  that  I  undertook,  and  this  would 


THE  POET.  167 

have  been  done  without  any  urging.  In  the  case 
of  the  Odyssey,  I  have  finished  the  first  volume 
two  months  sooner  than  I  promised.  I  do  not 
think  the  Odyssey  the  better  part  of  Homer  except 
morally.  The  gods  set  a  better  example  and  take 
more  care  to  see  that  wrong  and  injustice  are  dis 
couraged  among  mankind.  But  there  is  not  the 
same  spirit  and  fire,  nor  the  same  vividness  of  de 
scription,  and  this  the  translator  must  feel  as 
strongly  as  the  reader.  Let  me  correct  what  I 
have  already  said  by  adding  that  there  is  yet  in 
the  Odyssey  one  more  advantage  over  the  Iliad. 
It  is  better  as  a  story.  In  the  Iliad  the  plot  is,  to 
me,  unsatisfactory,  and  there  is,  besides,  a  monot 
ony  of  carnage  — you  get  a  surfeit  of  slaughter." 

Again,  on  the  18th  of  June  following,  he  writes 
to  Dana :  — 

"  I  do  not  feel  quite  so  easy  in  work  as  I  did  in 
translating  the  Iliad,  for  the  thought  that  I  am  so 
old  that  I  may  be  interrupted  in  my  task  before  it 
is  done  rises  in  my  mind  now  and  then,  and  I 
work  a  little  the  more  diligently  for  it,  which  per 
haps  is  not  so  well." 

Writing  to  his  publishers  1n  July,  he  betrayed 
the  consciousness  that  he  was  getting  nervous  about 
finishing  his  work  :  — 

"  As  I  have  finished  another  book  of  the  Odys 
sey,  I  forward  it  to-day.  But  do  not  let  your 
printers  tread  on  my  heels.  It  is  disagreeable  to  be 
dunned  for  copy,  and  I  cannot  write  as  well  when 
I  have  any  vexation  of  that  sort  on  my  mind." 


168  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

On  the  7th  of  December,  1871,  Bryant  addressed 
the  following  brief  note  to  his  publishers :  "  I 
have  sent  you  by  mail  the  twenty-fourth  and  con 
cluding'  book  of  my  translation  of  Homer's  Odys 
sey  together  with  the  table  of  contents  for  the  sec 
ond  volume."  It  was  in  this  unceremonious  way 
he  took  leave  of  a  task  which  had  been  his  chief 
solace  and  recreation  for  six  long  years.  Perhaps 
he  dared  not  trust  himself  to  say  more  of  such  a 
parting. 

The  reception  of  Bryant's  Homer  by  his  country 
people  could  not  have  been  more  cordial.  Every 
one  seemed  proud  of  it.  The  conviction  rapidly 
took  possession  of  the  scholarly  public  that  the  old 
Greek  had  never  before  been  brought  so  near 
to  readers  of  English,  and  that  our  literature 
had  been  permanently  and  substantially  enriched. 
Neither  of  these  convictions  is  likely  to  be  shaken. 
No  scholar  has  made  the  criticism  of  Bryant's 
Homer  that  Bentley  made  of  Pope's.1  Nor  did 
any  one  ever  claim  to  share  with  him  the  credit  of 
any  portion  of  his  work.2  While  giving  his  read 
ers  the  genuine  spirit  of  Homer,  Bryant  has  also 

1  "  A  pretty  poem,  Mr.  f*ope,  but  you  must  not  call  it  Homer.  " 

2  A  large  portion  of  the  translation  of  the  Odyssey  appears  now 
to  have  been  done  by  a  better  scholar  than  Pope  named  Broome, 
and  all  the  learning-  in  the  notes  was  gathered  by  him.     Pope's 
reluctance  to  recognize  the  services  of  his  collaborators  provoked 
no  end  of  lampoons,  of  which  the  following  is  one  of  the  clever 
est:  — 

"  By  tricks  sustained  in  post-craft  complete 
Retire  triumphant  to  thy  Twickenham  seat. 
That  seat  the  work  of  half-paid  drudging  Broome, 
And  called  by  joking  Tritons  Homer's  tomb." 


THE  POET.  169 

given  them  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  pure 
Saxon  English  in  our  literature.  It  will  reward 
the  curiosity  of  the  philologist  to  note  the  large 
proportion  of  words  of  one  syllable,  the  scarcity  of 
words  of  three  or  more  syllables,  and  the  yet  more 
conspicuous  absence  of  words  of  Greek  or  Latin 
derivation. 

The  sale  of  the  work  was  to  Mr.  Bryant  at  least 
one  gratifying  evidence  of  its  merit.  Up  to  May, 
1888,  17,000  copies  of  the  Iliad  had  been  sold, 
yielding  him  in  royalties  112,738.  Of  the  Odys 
sey,  10,244  copies,  yielding  in  royalties  $4,713, 
making  a  total  income  from  these  translations  up 
to  the  spring  of  1888  of  $17,451. 

There  is  a  moral  for  publishers  and  authors  in 
the  circumstance  that  while  3,283  copies  of  the 
more  costly  8vo  edition  of  the  Iliad  were  selling, 
5,449  copies  of  the  12mo  edition  in  two  volumes 
were  disposed  of.  The  royalties  from  the  cheaper 
editions  amounted  to  $4,713.60,  while  the  royalties 
from  the  other  edition  amounted  only  to  $811.80. 
This  is  exclusive  of  the  copyright  of  $2,500,  paid 
on  the  day  of  publication.  Of  the  large  paper 
copies  of  the  Odyssey  only  1,615  copies  were 
sold  to  7,229  of  the  cheaper  editions,  yielding  roy 
alties  from  the  former  of  $321.05,  and  $2,392 
from  the  latter. 

In  looking  at  the  financial  side  of  this  publica 
tion  one  is  irresistibly  tempted  to  compare  it  with 
the  only  publication  which  invites  such  a  compari 
son —  the  version  of  Homer  made  by  Pope  in  the 


170  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

first  quarter  of  the  last  century,1  which  Johnson 
called  "  the  noblest  version  of  poetry  the  world 
has  ever  seen,"  which  the  poet  Gray  said  some 
what  rashly  no  other  translation  would  ever  equal, 
and  to  which  Gibbon  ascribed  "  every  merit  but 
that  of  faithfulness  to  the  original."  Pope's  Iliad 
was  published  in  six  volumes,  for  each  of  which 
Lintot,  his  publisher,  was  to  pay  <£200,  besides 
supplying  Pope  gratuitously  with  the  copies  for 
which  he  procured  subscribers.  The  subscribers 
paid  a  guinea  a  volume,  and  as  575  subscribers 
took  654  copies,  Pope  received  altogether  X5,320  4s. 
By  the  Odyssey  he  seems  to  have  made  about 
.£3,500  more,  yielding  a  total  profit  of  about 
£9,000.  So  that  he  could  say  with  truth,  "  Thanks 
to  Homer,"  he  "  could  live  and  thrive,  indebted  to 
no  prince  or  peer  alive." 

"  No  author,"  says  Leslie  Stephen,2  "  had  ever 
made  anything  approaching  the  sum  which  Pope 
received,  and  very  few  authors,  even  in  the  pres 
ent  age  of  gold,  would  despise  such  payment." 

The  returns  to  Bryant  from  his  Homer  in  about 
the  same  period  of  time  after  publication  were  but 
about  $20,000  as  against  the  returns  to  Pope  of  say 
$45,000,  a  little  more  than  one  third  the  latter  sum. 
On  the  other  hand,  Pope's  receipts  were  all  realized 
mainly  from  the  sale  of  only  654  copies  or  there 
abouts.  How  many  Lintot  sold  we  do  not  know, 
but  probably  not  more  than  as  many  more,  or,  at 

1  1715-1726. 

2  Alexander  Pope,  in  English  Mun  of  Letters,  p.  62. 


THE  POET.  171 

most,  a  thousand  copies,  which  would  make  a  total 
of  1,654  copies,  while  the  sales  of  Bryant's  version 
amounted  to  17,000  copies,  or  more  than  ten  times 
the  number  sold  of  Pope's  version. 

When  it  is  considered  that  Bryant  made  no  per 
sonal  appeal  to  his  friends  and  admirers,  as  Pope 
did,  to  buy  his  book ;  that  he  had  no  touter  like 
Swift  to  bustle  about  in  the  ante-chambers  of 
royalty,  button-holing  every  considerable  man  he 
met,  to  say,  mutatis  mutandis,  "  the  best  poet  in 
America  has  begun  a  translation  into  English 
verse,  for  which  he  must  have  them  all  subscribe, 
for  the  author  shall  not  begin  to  print  till  I  have  a 
thousand  guineas  for  him;"  and  that  he  never  pre 
sented  a  copy  of  this  or  of  any  other  publication  of 
his  with  the  view  of  securing  a  notice  or  review  of 
it,1  the  success  of  his  translation  financially  cannot 
be  deemed  to  suffer  by  the  comparison  with  its 
only  rival. 

It  deserves  to  be  noted  here  also  that  Pope,  when 
he  finished  his  Homer,  was  on  the  hither  side  of 
forty,  and  Bryant,  when  he  finished  his,  was  on  the 
thither  side  of  eighty. 

1  Not  long1  after  the  publication  of  his  Thirty  Poems,  Bryant 
wrote  to  Dana  :  — 

"Acting  on  your  suggestion,  I  have  sent  a  copy  of  my  Thirty 
Poems  to  President  Hopkins,  of  Williams  College,  and  have 
received  from  him  a  very  kind  note.  In  a  letter  to  him  accom 
panying  the  volume,  I  made  you  responsible  for  my  sending  it, 
f qr  I  never  in  my  life  sent  a  copy  of  my  poems  to  anybody  with 
the  design  to  g'et  a  good  word  from  them  or  to  invite  their  notice 
qf  my  -writings  in  print." 


172  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Of  the  financial  returns  of  his  other  poetical 
works  we  have  no  precise  information,  but  it  is 
quite  safe  to  say  that  he  realized  many  times  as 
much  from  his  Homer  as  from  all  the  other  verses 
he  ever  wrote.  We  have  ample  confirmation  of 
this  conclusion  in  two  letters  written,  one  in  the 
earlier  stage  of  his  career,  and  the  other  near  to 
its  close. 

Writing  to  Dana  in  April,  1832,  and  shortly 
after  the  publication  of  the  volume  of  poems  which 
Irving  introduced  to  the  British  public,  he  said  :  — 

"  You  ask  about  the  sale  of  the  book.  Mr. 
Bliss  tells  me  it  is  very  good  for  poetry.  I  printed 
a  thousand  copies,  and  more  than  half  are  disposed 
of.  As  to  the  price,  it  may  be  rather  high  at 
$1.25,  but  I  found  that,  with  what  I  should  give 
away  and  what  the  booksellers  would  take,  little 
would  be  left  for  me  if  a  rather  high  price  was  not 
put  upon  it.  And  so  I  told  the  publisher  to  fix  it 
at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  If  the  whole  impression 
sells  it  will  bring  me  1300,  perhaps  a  little  more. 
I  hope  you  do  not  think  that  too  much.  I  have 
sent  the  volume  out  to  England,  and  Washington 
Irving  has  had  the  kindness  to  undertake  to  intro 
duce  it  to  the  English  public.  ...  As  for  the 
lucre  of  the  thing  on  either  side  of  the  water,  an 
experience  of  twenty -five  years  —  for  it  is  so  long 
since  I  became  an  author  —  has  convinced  me  that 
poetry  is  an  unprofitable  trade,  and  I  am  very 
glad  that  I  have  something  more  certain  to  depend 
upon  for  a  living." 


THE  POET.  173 

Later  on  in  his  experience  he  spoke  of  the  poet 
ical  market  with  even  less  indulgence. 

To  Dana  :  — 

"  After  all,  poetic  wares  are  not  for  the  market 
of  the  present  day.  Poetry  may  get  printed  in  the 
newspapers,  but  no  man  makes  money  by  it  for 
the  simple  reason  that  nobody  cares  a  fig  for 
it.  The  taste  for  it  is  something  old-fashioned  ; 
the  march  of  the  age  is  in  another  direction ;  man- 
"kind  are  occupied  with  politics,  railroads,  and 
steamboats.  Hundreds  of  persons  will  talk  flip 
pantly  and  volubly  about  poetry,  and  even  write 
about  it,  who  know  no  more  of  the  matter,  and 
have  no  more  feeling  of  the  matter,  than  the  old 
stump  I  write  this  letter  with." 

The  artistic  taste  of  this  country  has  so  much 
improved  in  the  last  quarter  of  a  century,  that  it 
would  not  be  surprising  if  Bryant's  original  poems 
have  yielded  to  his  heirs  already  larger  returns 
than  they  ever  yielded  their  author. 

Bryant,  as  we  have  seen,  sprang  into  the  world  a 
poet  full  grown.  His  muse  had  no  adolescence.  As 
with  Pindar,  the  bees  swarmed  in  his  mouth  while 
yet  a  child.  At  eighteen  he  took  his  place  as  the 
first  poet  of  the  country,  but  not  to  realize  the  too 
common  fate  of  such  rare  precocity  and  fall  a  prey 
to  the  envy  of  the  gods,  as  Dry  den  puts  it,  who 

"  When  their  gifts  too  lavishly  are  placed 
Soon  they  repent  and  will  not  make  them  last." 

There  is  no  evidence   that  Bryant's  genius   ever 
suffered  from   prematurity   of  development.     He 


174  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

never  wrote  a  poem  from  the  day  that  "  Thana- 
topsis  "  appeared  until  his  death  that  was  unwor 
thy  of  his  best,  and  the  cadences  yet  linger  in  the 
air  of  those  impressive  lines  with  which  in  1878  he 
commemorated  the  birthday  of  the  hero  of  our 
Republic.  Was  there  ever  a  more  meritorious 
poem  written  by  a  youth  of  eighteen  than  "  Than- 
atopsis "  ?  Was  there  ever  a  nobler  and  more 
Homeric  thought  more  exquisitely  set  to  verse 
than  is  developed  in  the  three  last  of  the  following 
stanzas,  written  in  his  eighty- fourth  year? 

THE  TWENTY-SECOND  OF  FEBRUARY. 

Pale  is  the  February  sky, 
And  brief  the  mid-day's  sunny  hours ; 
The  wind-swept  forest  seems  to  sigh 
For  the  sweet  time  of  leaves  and  flowers. 

Yet  has  no  month  a  prouder  day, 
Not  even  when  the  summer  broods 
O'er  meadows  in  their  fresh  array, 
Or  autumn  tints  the  glowing  woods. 

For  this  chill  season  now  again 
Brings,  in  its  annual  round,  the  morn 
When,  greatest  of  the  sons  of  men, 
Our  glorious  Washington  was  born. 

Lo,  where,  beneath  an  icy  shield, 
Calmly  the  mighty  Hudson  flows  ! 
By  snow-clad  fell  and  frozen  field, 
Broadening,  the  lordly  river  goes. 

The  wildest  storm  that  sweeps  through  space, 
And  rends  the  oak  with  sudden  force, 


THE  POET.  175 

Can  raise  no  ripple  on  his  face, 
Or  slacken  his  majestic  course. 

Thus,  'mid  the  wreck  of  thrones,  shall  live 
Unmarred,  undimmed,  our  hero's  fame, 
And  years  succeeding  years  shall  give 
Increase  of  honors  to  his  name. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   TOURIST. 

BRYANT'S  favorite  and  chief  recreation  was 
travel,  partly  because  there  is  no  escape  from  the 
importunate  exactions  of  a  daily  journal  but  flight, 
partly  because  of  the  happy  combination  of  rest 
and  mental  fertilization  which  travel  affords.  Few 
Americans  have  been  as  well  equipped  to  enjoy 
travel  as  Bryant,  and  no  one  could  enjoy  it  much 
more.  His  familiarity  with  the  languages  and 
literature  of  the  countries  he  visited,  his  intelli 
gent  curiosity  about  everything  which  distin 
guished  his  own  from  other  countries  and  peoples, 
and  his  love  of  nature  that  always  grew  by  what 
it  fed  on,  made  him  in  the  largest  sense  of  the 
word  a  citizen  of  the  world,  a  stranger  nowhere, 
and  welcome  wherever  a  welcome  was  desirable. 
His  first  excursion  that  deserved  to  be  dignified 
with  the  title  of  a  journey  was  made  in  1832  to 
visit  his  brothers,  who  upon  the  death  of  their 
father  had  with  their  mother  sought  a  new  home 
in  the  West,  and  had  become  the  proprietors  of 
a  large  landed  estate  in  Illinois.  He  consumed 
two  weeks  in  this  journey,  which  is  now  made  in 
about  as  many  days.  While  crossing  the  prairies 


THE   TOURIST.  177 

between  the  Mississippi  River  and  his  brothers' 
plantation,  he  encountered  a  company  of  Illinois 
volunteers  who  were  moving  south  to  take  a  part  in 
what  is  commonly  known  as  the  "  Black  Hawk 
War."  They  were  led  by  a  tall,  awkward,  un 
couth  lad,  whose  appearance  particularly  attracted 
Mr.  Bryant's  attention,  and  whose  conversation  de 
lighted  him  by  its  breeziness  and  originality.  He 
learned  many  years  afterwards,  from  one  who  had 
belonged  to  the  troop,  that  this  captain  of  theirs 
was  named  Abraham  Lincoln.1  Mr.  Bryant  little 
dreamed  as  he  scanned  the  ungainly  stripling  and 
listened  to  his  unweeded  jokes  that,  some  thirty 
years  later,  it  would  become  his  duty  to  present 
him  to  a  New  York  audience  and  his  privilege  to 
hear  from  these  very  lips  "  the  decisive  word  of 
the  contest  "  which  was  to  result  in  making  this 
captain  of  volunteers,  for  eight  consecutive  years, 
President  of  the  Republic ;  the  central  figure  of 
one  of  the  most  momentous  wars  that  has  ever  yet 
been  waged  among  men,  and  the  signer  of  the  proc 
lamation  that  delivered  over  six  millions  of  peo 
ple  from  slavery.  * 

It  was  during  this  visit  to  his  brothers  that  he 
wrote  of 

"  The  unshorn  fields,  boundless  and  beautiful 
For  which  the  speech  of  England  has  no  name," 

the  closing  lines  of  which,  though  found  in  every 
"  Reader  "  used  in  American  schools,  never  stales, 
1  Godwin's  Life  of  Bryant,  i.  283. 


178  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

and  will  always  lend  a  classic  interest  to  Bryant's 
first  trip  beyond  the  Alleghanies. 

tl  Still  this  great  solitude  is  quick  with  life. 
Myriads  of  insects,  gaudy  as  the  flowers 
They  flutter  over,  gentle  quadrupeds, 
And  birds,  that  scarce  have  learned  the  fear  of  man, 
Are  here,  and  sliding  reptiles  of  the  ground, 
Startlingly  beautiful.      The  graceful  deer 
Bounds  to  the  wood  at  my  approach.     The  bee, 
A  more  adventurous  colonist  than  man, 
With  whom  he  came  across  the  eastern  deep, 
Fills  the  savannas  with  his  murmurings, 
And  hides  his  sweets,  as  in  the  golden  age, 
Within  the  hollow  oak.     I  listen  long 
To  his  domestic  hum,  and  think  I  hear 
The  sound  of  that  advancing  multitude 
Which  soon  shall  fill  these  deserts.     From  the  ground 
Comes  up  the  laugh  of  children,  the  soft  voice 
Of  maidens,  and  the  sweet  and  solemn  hymn 
Of  Sabbath  worshipers.     The  low  of  herds 
Blends  with  the  rustling  of  the  heavy  grain 
Over  the  dark  brown  furrows.     All  at  once 
A  fresher  wind  sweeps  by,  and  breaks  my  dream, 
And  I  am  in  the  wilderness  alone." 

In  June,  1834,  Bryant  took  passage  with  his 
family  in  the  sailing  ship  Poland  for  Havre,  to  re 
ceive  his  first  impressions  of  the  Old  World.  He 
spent  a  few  weeks  in  Paris,  a  month  in  Rome,  a 
month  in  Naples,  two  months  in  Florence,  four 
months  in  Pisa,  three  months  in  Munich,  and  four 
months  in  Heidelberg.  His  studious  sojourn  at 
this  renowned  seat  of  learning  was  interrupted  by 
intelligence  of  the  dangerous  illness  of  his  editorial 
colleague,  William  Leggett,  who  became  associated 
with  him  in  the  editorship  of  the  "  Evening  Post " 


THE  TOURIST.  179 

very  shortly  after  the  death  of  Coleman.1  Placing 
his  family  in  charge  of  friends,  —  not  wishing  to 
expose  them  to  the  discomforts  of  a  winter's  voy 
age,  —  he  sailed  from  Havre  for  New  York  in 
February,  1836. 

As  we  never  have  first  impressions  of  anything 
but  once,  it  is  interesting  to  note  some  of  Bryant's 
first  impressions  of  France.  On  his  journey  from 
Havre  to  Paris,  he  tells  us  in  one  of  his  letters  to 
the  "  Evening  Post :  "  - 

"  We  passed  females  riding  on  donkeys,  the  Old 
Testament  beast  of  burden,  with  panniers  on  each 
side,  as  was  the  custom  hundreds  of  years  since. 
We  saw  ancient  dames  sitting  at  their  doors  with 
distaffs,  twisting  the  thread  by  twirling  the  spindle 
between  the  thumb  and  finger  as  they  did  in  the 
days  of  Homer.  A  flock  of  sheep  was  grazing  on 
the  side  of  a  hill ;  they  were  attended  by  a  shep 
herd  and  a  brace  of  prick-eared  dogs,  which  kept 
them  from  straying,  as  was  done  thousands  of 
years  ago.  Speckled  birds  were  hopping  by  the 
sides  of  the  road  ;  it  was  the  magpie,  the  bird  of 
ancient  fable.  Flocks  of  what  I  at  first  took  for 
the  crow  of  our  country  were  stalking  in  the  fields, 
or  sailing  in  the  air  over  the  old  elms ;  it  was  the 
rook,  the  bird  made  as  classical  by  Addison  as  his 
cousin  the  raven  by  the  Latin  poets.  .  .  . 

1  Leggett  was  a  native  of  New  York,  had  been  a  midshipman 
in  the  navy,  and  had  written  some  tales  and  verses  which  at 
tracted  Mr.  Bryant's  attention.  The  wags  of  the  opposition 
called  them  "The  Channting  Cherubs." 


180  WILLIAM   CULLKN   BRYANT. 

"  As  we  drew  nearer  to  Paris  we  saw  the  plant 
which  Noah  first  committed  to  the  earth  after  the 
deluge  —  you  know  what  that  was,  I  hope  — 
trained  on  low  stakes,  and  growing  thickly  and 
luxuriantly  on  the  slopes  by  the  side  of  the  high 
way.  Here,  too,  was  the  tree  which  was  the  sub 
ject  of  the  first  Christian  miracle,  the  fig,  its 
branches  heavy  with  the  bursting  fruit  just  be 
ginning  to  ripen  for  the  market." 

He  was  in  raptures  with  the  Italian  atmosphere, 
which  surpassed  his  expectations,  but  in  other  re 
spects  he  was  disappointed  with  Italian  scenery  :  — 

"  The  forms  of  the  mountains  are  wonderfully 
picturesque,  and  their  effect  is  heightened  by  the 
rich  atmosphere  through  which  they  are  seen,  and 
by  the  buildings,  imposing  from  their  architecture, 
or  venerable  from  time,  which  crown  the  emi 
nences.  But  if  the  hand  of  man  has  done  some 
thing  to  embellish  this  region,  it  has  done  more 
to  deform  it.  Not  a  tree  is  suffered  to  retain  its 
natural  shape,  not  a  brook  to  flow  in  its  natural 
channel.  An  exterminating  war  is  carried  on 
against  the  natural  herbage  of  the  soil.  The  coun 
try  is  without  woods  and  green  fields ;  and  to  him 
who  views  the  vale  of  the  Arno  4  from  the  top  of 
Fiesole,'  or  any  of  the  neighboring  heights,  grand 
as  he  will  allow  the  circle  of  the  mountains  to  be 
and  magnificent  the  edifices  with  which  the  region 
is  adorned,  it  appears,  at  any  time  after  midsummer, 
a  huge  valley  of  dust,  planted  with  low  rows  of  the 
pallid  and  thin-leaved  olive,  or  the  more  dwarfish 


THE   TOURIST.  181 

maple  on  which  the  vines  are  trained.  The  sim 
plicity  of  nature,  so  far  as  can  be  done,  is  de 
stroyed  ;  there  is  no  fine  sweep  of  forest,  no  broad 
expanse  of  meadow,  or  pasture  ground,  no  ancient 
and  towering  trees  clustered  about  the  villas,  no 
rows  of  natural  shrubbery  following  the  course  of 
the  brooks  and  rivers.  The  streams,  which  are 
often  but  the  beds  of  torrents  dry  during  the  sum 
mer,  are  confined  in  straight  channels  by  stone 
walls  and  embankments  ;  the  slopes  are  broken  up 
and  disfigured  by  terraces ;  and  the  trees  are  kept 
down  by  constant  pruning  and  lopping,  until  half 
way  up  the  sides  of  the  Apennines,  where  the  limit 
of  cultivation  is  reached,  and  thence  to  the  sum 
mit,  is  a  barren  steep  of  rock,  without  herbage  or 
soil." 

Venice,  he  found,  as  many  others  have  done, 
"  the  most  pleasing  of  the  Italian  cities." 

At  a  post  house  in  the  Tyrol  where  he  stopped 
on  a  Saturday  his  refection  was  limited  to  soup 
maigre  and  fish,  "  the  post-master  telling  us  that 
the  priest  had  positively  forbidden  meat  to  be  given 
to  travelers.  Think  of  that !  —  that  we  who  had 
eaten  wild  boar  and  pheasants  at  Kome  under  the 
very  nostrils  of  the  Pope  himself  and  his  whole 
conclave  of  cardinals,  should  be  refused  a  morsel 
of  flesh  on  an  ordinary  Saturday  at  a  tavern  on  a 
lonely  mountain  in  the  Tyrol  by  the  orders  of  a 
parish  priest." 

In  September,  1845,  he  found  an  opportunity  of 
returning  to  Europe.  After  spending  about  two 


182  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

months  in  England,  he  devoted  the  succeeding 
three  months  to  the  principal  places  of  interest  in 
France,  Belgium,  Holland,  Germany,  Switzerland, 
and  Italy,  returning  to  his  country  and  work  in 
November. 

In  England,  Bryant  felt  the  reflex  influence  of 
his  fame  as  a  poet  more  distinctly  than  he  had  felt 
it  ten  years  before  on  his  visit  to  the  Continent. 
This  was  due  in  part  to  the  publication  in  the  in 
terval  of  the  collection  of  his  poems  which  ap 
peared  in  London  under  the  editorial  auspices  of 
Mr.  Irving.  Mr.  Everett,  then  our  Minister  at 
the  English  Court,  called  upon  him  promptly,  and 
invited  him  to  meet  some  of  the  prominent  liter 
ary  men  at  breakfast.  Samuel  Rogers,  Monck- 
ton  Milnes  (the  late  Lord  Houghton),  and  Tom 
Moore  were  of  the  number.  How  Rogers  drove 
him  home  to  his  lodgings,  gave  him  a  general  in 
vitation  to  his  breakfasts,  and  how  they  contracted 
before  they  separated  a  warm  personal  regard  for 
each  other,  which  only  increased  with  their  years, 
has  been  already  told.  From  Bryant's  diary  it 
appears  that  Rogers's  house  was  always  open  to 
him  as  a  favored  guest.  Presented  to  London 
society  under  such  auspices,  it  is  needless  to  say 
that  before  he  left  England  he  was  brought  into 
relations  with  most  of  the  literary  celebrities  of 
London.  He  attended  Parliament  several  times, 
went  to  a  Corn  Law  meeting,  at  which  addresses 
were  made  by  Cobden,  Fox,  and  Bright,  where  he 
heard  some  lines  cited  from  his  "Hymn  to  the 


THE  TOURIST.  183 

City,"  which,  say  the  reports  of  the  day,  were  re 
ceived  with  such  prolonged  applause  that  he  was 
obliged  to  acknowledge  the  compliment  by  rising 
and  bowing  to  the  audience.1  Upon  the  invitation 
of  one  of  the  managers  of  the  British  Associa 
tion  he  went  to  Cambridge  to  attend  one  of  its 
meetings.  He  here  became  acquainted  with  Dr. 
Lyell,  Dr.  Buckland,  Sir  John  Herschel,  Hallam 
the  historian  ;  breakfasted  and  lunched  with  Dr. 
Whewell,  had  his  health  proposed  at  a  dinner  at 
which  Professor  Sedgwick  presided,  and  at  Shef 
field  was  taken  to  see  the  venerable  James  Mont 
gomery,  "  a  light  made  man,  in  a  huge  black  silk 
cravat  that  filled  his  neck  beyond  the  chin,  rather 

1  In  his  address  at  the  dinner  given  him  by  the  Free  Trade 
League  of  New  York  in  1868,  Bryant  gives  the  following  remi 
niscence  of  this  meeting :  — 

"  Mr.  President :  we  must  follow  up  with  vigor  the  advantage 
we  have  gained,  and  when  the  people  speak,  Congress  must  and 
shall  give  way.  I  remember  that,  when  in  the  time  of  the 
famous  Corn-Law  agitation  in  England,  an  agitation  for  cheap 
bread,  —  and  our  agitation  is  for  cheap  iron,  cheap  fuel,  and  cheap 
clothing,  —  I  heard  Cobden,  Bright,  and  Fox  discuss  the  question 
of  free  trade  in  corn  before  an  immense  assemblage  crowded  into 
Drury  Lane  Theatre.  Fox  insisted  that  the  only  method  to  move 
the  British  Ministry  with  Peel  at  its  head  was  to  move  the  people. 
He  quoted  the  old  rhyme  — 

"When  the  wind  blows  then  the  mill  goes  ; 
When  the  wind  drops  then  the  mill  stops," 

and  he  parodied  it  thus : — 

"  When  the  League  blows  then  the  Peel  goes, 
When  the  League  stops  then  the  Peel  drops." 

"The  league  followed  his  advice  and  blew  vigorously,  and 
Peel  brought  in  a  bill  to  repeal  the  restrictions  on  the  trade  in 
breadstuff s,  and  England  had  cheap  bread." 


184  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

thin  faced,  with  a  thin,  long  nose ;  his  conversa 
tion  agreeable  but  not  striking."  At  the  urgent 
solicitation  of  Crabb  Robinson  he  drove  over  to 
call  upon  Wordsworth,  whom  he  found  "  in  his 
garden  in  a  white  broad  -  brimmed,  low -crowned 
hat."  The  guests  walked  with  him  over  his 
grounds,  took  tea  at  six,  and  left  at  ten  in  the 
evening.1 

He  thought  Edinburgh  "  the  finest  city  he  ever 
saw,"  and  Glasgow  not  without  claim  to  the  epi 
thet  "  beautiful."  What  seems  to  have  impressed 
him  most  in  the  latter  was  "  the  good  sense  of  the 
people  in  erecting  the  statues  which  adorn  their 
public  squares  only  to  men  who  have  some  just 
claim  to  distinction.  Here  are  no  statues,  for  ex 
ample,  of  the  profligate  Charles  II.,  or  the  worth 
less  Duke  of  York,  or  the  silly  Duke  of  Cambridge, 
as  you  will  see  in  other  cities  ;  but  here  the  marble 
effigy  of  Walter  Scott  looks  from  a  lofty  column 
in  the  principal  square,  and  not  far  from  it  is  that 
of  the  inventor  Watt ;  while  the  statues  erected  to 
military  men  are  to  those  who,  like  Wellington, 
have  acquired  a  just  renown  in  arms." 

1  "Mr.  Bryant  often  recurred  in  conversation  to  liis  pleasant 
visit  to  Wordsworth,  but  one  always  suspected  that,  much  as  he 
reverenced  the  poet,  he  was  not  very  strongly  impressed  by  the 
man.  Wordsworth  had  a  way  of  talking1  of  himself  and  his  poe 
try  which  must  have  seemed  strange  if  not  ludicrous  to  one  so 
habitually  reticent  in  the  same  respects  as  our  traveler.  .  .  .  Af 
ter  his  return,  Mr.  Bryant  sometimes  amused  his  more  intimate 
friends  with  imitations  of  Wordsworth's  reverent  manner  of  re 
peating  his  own  verses  —  not,  however,  in  a  way  that  lessened 
respect  for  the  venerable  bard."  —  Godwin's  Life,  ii.  9. 


THE   TOURIST.  185 

He  listened  on  the  Sabbath  to  a  sermon  from  "  a 
comfortable-looking  professor  in  some  new  theolog 
ical  school.  It  was  quite  commonplace,  though  not 
so  long  as  the  Scotch  ministers  are  in  the  habit  of 
giving.  ...  At  the  close  of  the  exercises  he  an 
nounced  that  a  third  service  would  be  held  in  the 
evening.  '  The  subject,'  he  continued,  '  will  be 
"  The  Thoughts  and  Exercises  of  Jonah  in  the 
Whale's  Belly." ' " 

At  Ayr,  he  wondered  that,  "  born  as  Burns 
was  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  sea,  which  is  often 
swelled  into  prodigious  waves  by  the  strong  west 
winds  that  beat  on  this  coast,  he  should  yet  have 
taken  little,  if  any,  of  his  poetic  imagery  from  the 
ocean,  either  in  its  wilder  or  its  gentler  moods. 
But  his  occupations  were  among  the  fields,  and  his 
thoughts  were  of  those  who  dwelt  among  them,  and 
his  imagination  never  wandered  where  his  feelings 
went  not."  He  visited  the  monument  to  Burns 
erected  near  the  bridge,  which  he  found  "  an 
ostentatious  thing,  with  a  gilt  tripod  on  its  sum 
mit.  .  .  .  The  wild  rose  and  the  woodbine  were  in 
full  bloom  in  the  hedges,  and  these  to  me  were  a 
better  memorial  of  Burns  than  anything  which  the 
chisel  could  furnish." 

In  March,  1849,  and  immediately  after  the 
memorable  schism  in  the  Democratic  party  which 
resulted  in  the  nomination  of  Van  Buren  for 
President  by  the  Free  Soil  party,  the  consequent 
defeat  of  Cass,  and  the  election  of  Taylor  to  the 
Presidency,  Mr.  Bryant  visited  Cuba  by  way  of 


186  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

the  Carolinas  and  Florida.  He  spent  a  week  on  a 
cotton  plantation  in  South  Carolina,  another  week 
in  Florida  ;  was  received  by  the  Governor-General 
at  Havana,  passed  several  days  on  a  coffee  estate 
at  Matanzas,  went  by  rail  to  San  Antonio  in  a 
car  built  at  Newark,  drawn  by  an  engine  made  in 
New  York,  and  worked  by  an  American  engineer ; 
breakfasted  at  the  inn  of  La  Punta  on  rice  and 
fresh  eggs  and  a  dish  of  meat  so  highly  flavored 
with  garlic  that  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  the 
species  of  animal  it  belonged  to.  He  visited  a  cock 
pit  in  which  a  man  "  with  a  gray  beard,  a  grave 
aspect,  and  a  solemn  gait  was  training  a  game 
cock  in  the  virtue  of  perseverance ; "  witnessed  a 
cock-fight,  a  masked  ball,  a  murderer  garroted, 
and  slavery  in  some  of  its  most  inhuman  phases. 
He  was  absent  on  this  excursion  about  two  months. 
In  June,  and  only  a  few  weeks  after  his  return 
from  Cuba,  he  sailed  again  on  his  third  trip  to 
Europe.  After  a  few  days  in  London  he  visited 
the  Orkney  and  Shetland  Islands,  lona  and  Staff  a. 
In  August,  he  passed  over  to  the  Continent,  spent  a 
few  days  in  Paris,  and  then  proceeded  to  Switzerland 
and  Bavaria,  returning  to  the  United  States  in  De 
cember.  During  his  brief  stay  in  London  he  was 
again  warmly  received  by  Rogers,  to  whom  he  was 
specially  indebted  for  an  introduction  to,  and  a  good 
deal  of  attention  from,  the  most  eminent  artists  of 
that  day  in  England.  At  their  first  meeting  on 
this  visit  Rogers,  then  over  eighty,  said  to  him, 
"  You  look  hearty  and  cheerful,  but  our  poets  all 


THE  TOURIST.  187 

seem  to  be  losing  their  minds.  Campbell's  son  is 
in  a  madhouse,  and  if  his  father  had  been  put 
there  during'  the  later  years  of  his  life  it  would 
have  been  the  proper  place  for  him.  Bowles 
became  weak-minded  ;  and  as  for  Southey,  you 
know  what  happened  to  him.  Moore  was  here  the 
other  day,  and  I  asked  him  how  long  he  had  been 
in  town.  '  Three  or  four  days,'  he  said.  4  What, 
three  or  four  days,  and  not  let  me  know  it ! '  'I 
beg  pardon,'  said  he,  putting  his  hand  to  his  fore 
head,  '  I  believe  I  came  to  town  this  morning.'  As 
to  Wordsworth,  a  gentleman  who  saw  him  lately 
said  to  me,  '  You  will  not  find  Wordsworth  much 
changed,  he  still  talks  rationally.' ': 

On  returning  from  the  Shetland  Islands,  which 
he  left  reluctantly,  he  called  upon  Lord  Jeffrey, 
"who,"  he  wrote  in  his  diary,  "talked  eloquently 
of  Puseyism,  which  he  said  was  a  fashion,  —  an 
affectation  having  no  root  in  any  great  principle  of 
human  nature ;  appealing  neither  to  mysticism  nor 
rationalism,  the  two  great  parties  of  the  religious 
world  —  and  which  could  only  be  temporary." 
Bryant's  impressions  of  Abbotsford  were  unsatis 
factory.  u  The  fellow  at  the  gate  was  tipsy  and 
crusty,  and  the  woman  at  the  house  flushed  and 
peremptory,  not  allowing  the  inside  to  be  seen, 
because  the  house  was  shut  up." 

Bryant  found  the  Continent  bristling  with  bayo 
nets,  and  having  all  the  air  of  conquered  prov 
inces  ;  nearly  every  city  worth  visiting  was  "  in  a 
state  of  siege."  Soldiers  filled  the  streets  and  all 


188  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

the  public  squares  of  Paris.  "  Those,"  he  wrote, 
"  who  maintain  that  France  is  not  fit  for  liberty 
need  not  afflict  themselves  with  the  idea  that  there 
is  at  present  more  liberty  in  France  than  her  people 
know  how  to  enjoy." 

He  found  the  cities  along1  the  Rhine  also  crowded 
with  soldiers,  Heidelberg  full  of  Prussian  troops, 
and  every  other  man  he  met  in  the  streets  a  soldier ; 
he  entered  Stuttgart  u  with  a  little  army."  From 
Geiseling-en  to  Ulm,  on  the  Danube,  "  the  road 
was  fairly  lined  with  soldiers  walking  or  resting 
by  the  wayside,  or  closely  packed  in  the  peasants' 
wagons."  At  Munich,  he  hoped  for  better  things, 
but  in  vain.  "  They  were  everywhere  placed  in 
sight  as  if  to  keep  the  people  in  awe."  So  weary 
had  he  become  of  the  perpetual  sight  of  the  mili 
tary  uniform  and  other  symbols  of  repression 
and  oppression  that  when  he  reached  Switzerland, 
where  no  gens  d'armes  challenged  his  movements, 
where  no  one  asked  for  his  passport,  nor  for  the 
keys  to  his  baggage,  he  "  could  almost  have  kneeled 
and  kissed  the  shores  of  the  hospitable  republic." 
He  returned  to  his  country  and  duties  in  December. 

In  November,  1852,  Bryant  sailed  again  into  the 
East,  Egypt  and  Syria  being  his  objective  points. 
On  his  way  through  London  he  passed  an  evening 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Chapman,  the  publisher,  where, 
it  appears  by  his  diary,  he  met  "  a  blue-stocking 
lady,  who  writes  for  the  '  Westminster  Review,' 
named  Evans."  A  few  days  later,  he  learned  that 
this  blue-stocking  was  Miss  Marian  Evans,  since 


THE    TOURIST.  189 

celebrated  as  "  George  Eliot."  He  met  there 
also  Herbert  Spencer,  Louis  Blanc,  and  Pierre 
Leroux.  He  arrived  in  Paris  the  evening  before 
the  proclamation  of  the  Empire ;  saw  the  new 
emperor  escorted  to  the  palace  of  the  Toiler ies, 
and  was  impressed  "  by  the  utter  absence  not  only 
of  enthusiasm,  but  even  of  the  least  affectation  of 
enthusiasm,"  in  the  crowd  which  surrounded  him. 
From  Paris  he  proceeded  through  Lyons,  Mar 
seilles,  and  Nimes  to  Genoa,  whence  he  sailed  to 
Naples.  After  a  flying  visit  to  Pompeii,  Amalfi, 
Paestum,  Nocera,  and  Malta,  he  embarked  for 
Alexandria,  whence  without  delay  he  proceeded  to 
Cairo,  where  he  spent  a  week,  and  thence  up  the 
Nile  as  far  as  the  first  cataract,  in  which  six 
teen  days  were  consumed.  From  Cairo  he  set  out 
across  the  desert  for  Jerusalem,  where,  after  fif 
teen  days'  camel-riding,  he  arrived  on  the  13th  of 
February.  After  bathing  in  the  Jordan  and  the 
Dead  Sea,  visiting  Nazareth,  the  Lake  of  Tiberias, 
Mount  Carmel,  Acre,  Tyre,  Sidon,  Beyrout,  Damas 
cus,  and  Baalbec,  he  sailed  to  Constantinople ; 
thence  went  to  Smyrna,  Athens,  Corfu,  Trieste, 
Venice,  Florence,  Rome,  Civita  Vecchia,  and  Mar 
seilles.  After  spending  ten  or  twelve  days  in  Paris, 
and  a  day  or  two  in  London,  he  returned  to  New 
York  in  May,  1853. 

In  May,  1857,  Mr.  Bryant  crossed  the  Atlantic 
for  the  fifth  time,  not  on  this  occasion  for  his 
own  pleasure,  but  for  Mrs.  Bryant's  health,  which 
for  two  or  three  years  had  given  him  more  or  less 


190  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

solicitude.  They  landed  in  Havre  on  the  first  of 
June.  After  a  short  stay  in  Paris,  they  traveled 
through  Belgium  and  Holland  to  Heidelberg, 
thence  through  Switzerland,  where  thev  did  not 
tarry,  and  France  to  Bagneres  de  Luchon.  By 
November,  they  were  at  Madrid,  and  in  January, 
1858,  at  Naples.  On  this  journey  Mrs.  Bryant 
was  attacked  with  a  catarrhal  fever,  which  assumed 
so  grave  a  character  at  Naples  as  to  detain  them 
there  about  four  months  instead  of  the  one  month 
which  they  had  reserved  for  that  city.  They  left 
in  May  for  Rome,  where  they  passed  about  a  fort 
night.  They  returned  through  Venice  in  July  to 
Paris,  where  they  tarried  a  couple  of  weeks,  and 
then  left  for  England,  returning  to  the  United 
States  in  August,  but  unhappily  without  accom 
plishing  the  primary  purpose  of  their  expedition. 
<kl  brought  back  Mrs.  Bryant,"  he  wrote  to  Dr. 
Dewey,  u  nearly  as  well  as  she  was  when  I  carried 
her  off  to  Europe,  and  gaining  strength  so  steadily 
that  I  have  great  hopes  of  soon  seeing  her  even 
better  than  she  was  there." 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  this  year,  as  already 
stated,  that  Bryant  purchased  the  Bryant  home 
stead  at  Cummington,  mainly  to  test  the  effects 
of  the  Berkshire  air  upon  her  still  languishing 
health.  He  built  a  new  house  to  insure  the 
greater  advantage  to  her  from  the  atmospheric  ac 
cessories,  and  when  it  was  finished  in  the  spring  of 
1866  invited  all  his  relations  from  Illinois  to  join 
him  there  in  "  hanging  the  pot."  The  pleasure 


THE    TOURIST.  191 

and  benefits  for-  which  he  had  so  considerately 
planned  were  not  to  be  realized.  Mrs.  Bryant's 
health  that  summer  declined  so  rapidly  that  early 
in  July  he  was  compelled  to  notify  his  brothers 
and  their  families,  already  assembled  at  Cumming- 
ton,  that  his  wife  was  too  ill  to  meet  them  there. 
She  survived  but  a  few  weeks,  and  on  the  27th  she 
was  where  —  to  use  Bryant's  own  words  :  — 

"  He  who  went  before  thee  to  prepare 
For  his  meek  followers,  shall  assign  thy  place." 

lu  reply  to  a  letter  of  condolence  from  his  friend 
Dana,  he  wrote  :  — 

"  I  know,  my  dear  friend,  that  she  is  happier 
where  she  is  now  than  even  her  generous  sym 
pathies  made  her  here,  yet  when  I  think  of  the  suf 
fering  which  attended  her  illness  of  eleven  weeks, 
of  the  patience  with  which  she  compelled  herself 
to  endure  it,  and  of  her  strong  desire  to  do  God's 
will,  I  cannot  help  feeling  a  sharp  pang  at  the 
heart,  notwithstanding  that  I  am  able  to  think  of 
her  as  now  beyond  the  reach  of.  death,  pain,  and 
decay,  with  the  Divine  person  whose  example  of 
love  and  beneficence  she  sought  to  copy  with  the 
humblest  estimate  of  her  success.  In  this  point 
of  view  my  grief  may  be  without  cause,  but  there 
is  yet  another  way  to  look  at  it.  I  lived  with  my 
wife  forty-five  years,  and  now  that  great  blessing 
of  my  life  is  withdrawn,  and  I  am  like  one  cast 
out  of  Paradise  and  wandering  in  a  strange  world. 
I  hope  yet  to  see  all  this  in  the  light  of  which  you 
speak  —  the  light  in  which  '  death  duplicates  those 


192  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

who  are  taken  from  us.'  Meantime,  I  perceive 
this :  that  the  example  set  me  by  her  whom  I  have 
lost  —  of  absolute  sincerity,  of  active  benevolence, 
and  of  instant  and  resolute  condemnation  of 
whatever  is  unrighteous  and  inhuman — is  more 
thought  of  and  cherished  by  me  than  during  her 
lifetime,  and  seems  invested  with  a  new  sacred- 
ness." 

Among  the  papers  found  upon  Bryant's  table 
when  he  left  for  Mexico  was  the  following  sketch 
of  an  uncompleted  poem  which  can  scarcely  be 
fully  appreciated  by  any  who  have  not  experienced 
a  similar  bereavement,  but  which  no  one  can.  read 
without  being  moved  by  its  pathetic  tenderness. 
Mr.  Bryant  had  then  been  a  widower  seven  years. 

"  The  morn  hath  not  the  glory  that  it  wore, 

Nor  doth  the  day  so  beautifully  die, 
Since  I  can  call  thee  to  my  side  no  more, 
To  gaze  upon  the  sky. 

"  For  thy  dear  hand,  with  each  return  of  Spring, 

I  sought  in  sunny  nooks  the  flowers  she  gave ; 
I  seek  them  still,  and  sorrowfully  bring 
The  choicest  to  thy  grave. 

"  Here  where  I  sit  alone  is  sometimes  heard, 

From  the  great  world,  a  whisper  of  my  name, 
Joined,  haply,  to  some  kind,  commending  word, 
By  those  whose  praise  is  fame. 

"  And  then,  as  if  I  thought  thou  still  wert  nigh, 

I  turn  me,  half  forgetting  thou  art  dead, 
To  read  the  gentle  gladness  in  thine  eye, 
That  once  I  might  have  read. 


THE   TOURIST.  193 

"  I  turn,  but  see  thee  not ;  before  my  eyes 

The  image  of  a  hillside  mound  appears, 
Where  all  of  thee  that  passed  not  to  the  skies 
Was  laid  with  bitter  tears. 

"  And  I,  whose  thoughts  go  back  to  happier  days, 
That  fled  with  thee,  would  gladly  now  resign 
All  that  the  world  can  give  of  fame  and  praise, 
For  one  sweet  look  of  thine. 

"  Thus,  ever,  when  I  read  of  generous  deeds, 

Such  words  as  thou  didst  once  delight  to  hear, 
My  heart  is  wrung  with  anguish  as  it  bleeds 
To  think  thou  art  not  near. 

"  And  now  that  I  can  talk  no  more  with  thee 

Of  ancient  friends  and  days  too  fair  to  last, 
A  bitterness  blends  with  the  memory 
Of  all  that  happy  past. 

"Oh,  when  I  — 
"  ROSLYN,  1873." 

In  a  brief  memoir  written  immediately  after  her 
death  for  the  eyes  of  his  daughters  alone,  Mr. 
Bryant  said  :  — 

"  I  never  wrote  a  poem  that  I  did  not  repeat  to 
her  and  take  her  judgment  upon  it.  I  found  its 
success  with  the  public  precisely  in  proportion  to 
the  impression  it  made  upon  her.  She  loved  my 
verses  and  judged  them  kindly,  but  did  not  like 
them  all  equally  well."  l 

The  health  of  his  younger  daughter,  worn  by 
watching  and  anxiety,  now  required  his  special  at 
tention,  and  under  the  impression  that  change  of 

1  Godwin's  Life  of  Bryant,  ii.  246. 


194  WILL  I AM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

scene  and  climate  might  be  advantageous  to  both, 
they  sailed  again  in  a  French  steamer  for  Havre, 
in  October,  1866.  After  a  fortnight  in  Paris  they 
went  to  Amelie-les-Bains,  in  the  eastern  Pyrenees. 
In  January,  they  left  for  the  south  of  Spain,  and 
in  February,  they  were  in  Florence.  Here  Bryant 
was  invited  by  Garibaldi  to  accompany  him  to 
Venice,  whither  he  was  going  to  celebrate  the 
withdrawal  of  the  Austrians  from  Italy.  No  one 
who  knew  Bryant  would  need  be  told  that  he  pre 
ferred  to  adhere  to  his  original  purpose  of  taking 
his  daughter  to  Eome,  where  he  arrived  in  March. 
They  were  soon  driven  thence  by  the  heat,  and 
were  at  Dresden  in  April,  having  visited  on  their 
way  Ancona,  Trieste,  Vienna,  Salzburg,  Munich, 
and  Nuremberg.  They  were  again  in  Paris  early 
in  May,  1867,  in  England  in  July,  where  they  re 
mained  until  the  24th  of  August,  passing  much  of 
their  time  in  Wales,  and  returned  to  New  York 
again  in  September.  This  was  the  sixth  and  last 
of  Mr.  Bryant's  trips  beyond  the  Atlantic.  While 
in  Rome  and  later  in  Florence  on  this  trip,  he  met 
Hawthorne  more  or  less  familiarly.  In  his  "  French 
and  Italian  Note-Books,"  Hawthorne  has  given  a 
striking  sketch  of  Bryant  and  the  impression  the 
poet  left  upon  him. 

"  May  22.  Yesterday,  while  we  were  at  dinner,  Mr. 
Bryant  called.  I  never  saw  him  but  once  before,  and 
that  was  at  the  door  of  our  little  red  cottage  in  Lenox, 
he  sitting  in  a  wagon  with  one  or  two  of  the  Sedgwicks, 
merely  exchanging  a  greeting  with  me  from  under  the 


THE   TOURIST.  195 

brim  of  his  straw  hat,  and  driving  on.  He  presented 
himself  now  with  a  long  white  beard,  such  as  a  palmer 
might  have  worn  as  the  growth  of  his  long  pilgrimages ; 
a  brow  almost  entirely  bald  and  what  hair  he  has  quite 
hoary ;  a  forehead  impending,  yet  not  massive  ;  dark, 
bushy  eyebrows  and  keen  eyes,  without  much  softness  in 
them  ;  a  dark  and  sallow  complexion  ;  a  slender  figure, 
bent  a  little  with  age,  but  at  once  alert  and  infirm.  It 
surprised  me  to  see  him  so  venerable ;  for,  as  poets  are 
Apollo's  kinsmen,  we  are  inclined  to  attribute  to  them 
his  enviable  quality  of  never  growing  old.  There  was 
a  weary  look  in  his  face,  as  if  he  were  tired  of  seeing 
things  and  doing  things,  though  with  certainly  enough 
still  to  see  and  do,  if  need  were.  My  family  gathered 
about  him,  and  he  conversed  with  great  readiness  and 
simplicity  about  his  travels,  and  whatever  other  subject 
came  up,  telling  us  that  he  had  been  abroad  five  times, 
and  was  now  getting  a  little  homesick,  and  had  no  more 
eagerness  for  sights.  .  .  . 

"  His  manners  and  whole  aspect  are  very  particularly 
plain,  though  not  affectedly  so  ;  but  it  seems  as  if  in  the 
decline  of  life,  and  the  security  of  his  position,  he  had 
put  off  whatever  artificial  polish  he  may  have  heretofore 
had,  and  resumed  the  simple  habits  and  deportment  of 
his  early  New  England  breeding.  Not  but  what  you 
discover,  nevertheless,  that  he  is  a  man  of  refinement, 
who  has  seen  the  world,  and  is  well  aware  of  his  own 
place  in  it.  He  spoke  with  great  pleasure  of  his  recent 
visit  to  Spain.  I  introduced  the  subject  of  Kansas,  and 
methought  his  face  forthwith  assumed  something  of  the 
bitter  keenness  of  the  editor  of  a  political  newspaper 
while  speaking  of  the  triumph  of  the  administration 
over  the  Free  Soil  opposition.  I  inquired  whether  he 


196  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

had  seen  S ,*  and  he  gave  a  very  sad  account  of 

him  as  he  appeared  at  their  last  meeting,  which  was  in 

Paris.  S ,  he  thought,  had  suffered  terribly,  and 

would  never  again  be  the  man  he  was  ;  he  was  getting 
fat ;  he  talked  continually  of  himself,  and  of  trifles  con 
cerning  himself,  and  seemed  to  have  no  interest  for 
other  matters  ;  and  Mr.  Bryant  feared  that  the  shock 
upon  his  nerves  had  extended  to  his  intellect,  and  was 

irremediable.  He  said  that  S ought  to  retire  from 

public  life,  but  had  no  friend  true  enough  to  tell  him 
so.  This  is  about  as  sad  as  anything  can  be.  I  hate  to 

have  S undergo  the  fate  of  a  martyr,  because  he 

was  not  naturally  of  the  stuff  that  martyrs  are  made  of, 
and  it  is  altogether  by  mistake  that  he  has  thrust  him 
self  into  the  position  of  one.  He  was  merely,  though 
with  excellent  abilities,  one  of  the  best  of  fellows,  and 
ought  to  have  lived  and  died  in  good  fellowship  with  all 
the  world. 

"  Bryant  was  not  in  the  least  degree  excited  about 
this  or  any  other  subject.  He  uttered  neither  passion 
nor  poetry,  but  excellent  good  sense,  and  accurate  infor 
mation,  on  whatever  subject  transpired ;  a  Very  pleasant 
man  to  associate  with,  but  rather  cold,  I  should  imagine, 
if  one  should  seek  to  touch  his  heart  with  one's  own. 
He  shook  hands  kindly  all  round,  but  not  with  any 
warmth  of  gripe,  although  the  ease  of  his  deportment 
had  put  us  all  on  sociable  terms  with  him." 

Upon  the  completion  of  his  translation  of  the 
Homeric  poems,  Bryant  felt  the  need  of  such  re 
laxation  and  diversion  as  he  could  not  secure  at 

1  Charles  Sumner,  then  in  Paris  under  treatment  for  the 
bruises  he  had  received  in  the  senate  chamber  from  a  member  of 
Congress  named  Brooks,  of  South  Carolina. 


THE  TOURIST.  197 

home,  and  decided  to  seek  them  in  a  trip  to  Mexico. 
Accompanied  by  his  brother  John,  his  younger 
daughter,  a  niece,  and  his  friend  John  Durand,  he 
sailed  on  the  25th.  of  January,  1872,  for  Nassau, 
where  he  stopped  two  weeks,  thence  to  Havana, 
where  he  spent  a  week,  thence  to  Vera  Cruz,  where 
he  arrived  on  the  27th  of  February,  thence  by  rail 
and  stage  to  the  City  of  Mexico.  He  remained  in 
the  capital  about  a  fortnight,  and  then  returned  lei 
surely  to  the  coast,  visiting  Puebla  and  Orizaba  on 
the  way.  They  returned  by  way  of  Havana,  and 
reached  home  again  before  the  end  of  April.  Dur 
ing  his  stay  in  Mexico  he  was  received  with  very 
conspicuous  attention.  No  foreigner,  it  was  said, 
had  ever  been  received  in  Mexico  with  more.  Not 
only  President  Juarez  and  his  cabinet,  but  the  lit 
erary  and  scientific  notabilities  of  the  country  vied 
with  each  other  in  heaping  honors  upon  him. 

"  To  no  extrinsic  influences,"  said  a  Mexican  print 
of  the  day,  "can  be  attributed  the  honors  and  hospi 
tality  so  lavishly  conferred  upon  him.  They  were  the 
spontaneous  outpourings  of  a  grateful  people,  who  never 
forget  an  act  of  kindness  and  justice,  and  who  had  not 
forgotten  that  when  Mexico  was  friendless,  Mr.  Bryant 
became  her  friend.  They  were  the  responsive  echoes 
of  the  gifted  and  talented  of  the  land,  who  appreciated 
his  lofty  genius  ;  they  were  the  tokens  of  the  admiration 
of  high  talents  and  noble  aspirations  entertained  by  our 
society." 

Upon  his  return  from  his  trip  to  Europe  in 
1850,  Bryant  was  persuaded  to  collect  into  a  volume 


198  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

and  publish  the  letters  he  had  sent  to  his  jour 
nal  from  time  to  time  during  his  several  excursions 
into  foreign  lands  and  in  the  remoter  parts  of  his 
own  country.  He  called  them  "  Letters  of  a  Trav 
eler."  In  the  winter  of  1869,  he  published  a  sup 
plementary  volume  containing  the  letters  written 
subsequently  to  the  first  publication.  To  these  he 
gave  the  title  of  "  Letters  from  the  East."  Had 
he  written  freely  of  what  he  saw  and  heard,  these 
letters  would  have  been  of  rare  interest  and  value, 
for  wherever  he  traveled  he  saw,  if  not  all,  very 
many  of  the  most  interesting  people.  But  his  no 
tions  of  the  sanctity  of  private  hospitality  were  so 
strict  that  it  is  scarcely  an  exaggeration  to  say  that 
in  all  his  published  letters  cannot  be  found  the 
name  of  a  single  person  from  whom  he  received 
hospitality  or  whose  acquaintance  he  made  in  any 
private  circle.  In  his  preface  to  "  Letters  of  a 
Traveler,"  he  says,  "  The  author  might  have  made 
these  letters  more  interesting  to  readers  in  general, 
if  he  had  spoken  of  distinguished  men  to  whose 
society  he  was  admitted  ;  but  the  limits  within 
which  this  may  be  done  with  propriety  and  without 
offense  are  so  narrow  and  so  easily  overstepped 
that  he  has  preferred  to  abstain  altogether  from 
that  class  of  topics." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  epistolary  echoes 
of  a  tourist,  from  which  all  notice  of  the  people  he 
meets  are  rigorously  excluded,  could  hardly  possess 
a  very  lively  interest,  whoever  might  be  the  writer ; 
and  Bryant  put  a  just  estimate  upon  his  letters 


THE  TOURIST.  199 

when  he  said  that  "  the  highest  merit  such  a  work 
caii  claim,  if  ever  so  well  executed,  is  but  slight." 
They  have  a  certain  value,  however,  which  time 
will  add  to,  more  than  it  will  subtract  from.  They 
are  written  in  faultless  English  and  faultless  taste  ; 
they  show  what,  in  the  lands  he  visited,  specially 
attracted  his  attention  ;  and  they  paint  many  pic 
tures  and  disclose  many  social  and  political  condi 
tions  which,  in  progress  of  time,  would  hardly  be 
credited  upon  less  unimpeachable  authority.  His 
letters  from  the  East  are  by  far  the  most  interest 
ing,  for  there  he  encountered  none  of  the  restric 
tions  which  impoverished  his  letters  from  Europe. 
He  was  at  liberty  to  speak  freely  of  everything  he 
saw  and  of  everything  lie  felt  among  the  Mussul- 
men,  and  he  made  of  it  an  exceedingly  entertaining 
book.  It  possesses  a  consecutiveness  of  narrative, 
too,  which  is  wanting  in  the  previous  collection, 
and  was  written  after  he  had  become  more  familiar 
with  the  world  and  with  the  manners  of  many 
men,  and  when  his  judgment  was  fully  ripe.  But 
all  of  them  have  delighted  his  many  personal 
friends  and  admirers,  in  deference  to  whose  wishes 
rather  than  to  his  own  judgment  he  put  them  into 
volumes.  It  is  very  possible  that  they  will  add 
little,  if  anything,  to  his  fame  as  a  man  of  letters, 
but  it  is  certain  that  they  lend  proportion  and 
dignity  to  his  character  as  a  member  of  human 
society. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    ORATOR. 

AN  English  critic,  writing  of  Bryant  a  few 
weeks  after  his  death,  said,  "  He  was  so  accom 
plished,  so  graceful,  so  impressive  a  speaker,  that 
he  only  just  failed  to  be  an  orator."  This  is  not  a 
criticism  to  quarrel  with,  but  it  is  a  judgment  to 
be  accepted  with  conditions.  It  can  hardly  be 
said  that  any  of  his  discourses  which  have  survived 
him  were  eloquent  in  the  common  acceptation  of 
that  word,  for  they  lacked  the  fire  and  enthusiasm 
which  we  expect  from  a  speaker  inspired  by  an 
audience ;  but  had  he  been  accustomed  to  earn  his 
bread  by  his  tongue  instead  of  his  pen,  had  he 
occupied  a  seat  in  our  halls  of  legislation,  or  re 
mained  at  the  bar,  or  in  a  position  where  the  atten 
tion  of  large  audiences  was  to  be  held,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  name  any  faculty  of  heart  or  mind  that 
was  lacking  to  have  won  for  him  the  reputation  of 
an  orator,  had  he  courted  such  a  reputation.  He 
had  an  acute  sensibility  for  the  choicest  forms  and 
highest  powers  of  expression ;  he  had  a  marvelous 
memory,  and  was  singularly  alive  to  every  senti 
ment  that  appealed  to  our  higher  nature  and  most 
refined  sympathies.  His  aversion  to  every  form 


THE    ORATOR.  201 

of  disingenuousness,  too,  was  so  uncompromising, 
and  his  judgments  were  so  considerate  and  free 
from  the  delusions  of  partisanship,  that  he  was  al 
ways  sure  of  a  sympathetic  and  confiding  audience. 
What  he  might  have  achieved  as  an  orator  is  now 
largely  a  matter  of  conjecture.  He  left  the  bar 
before  his  talents  as  a  public  speaker  had  been 
tested  ;  he  never  took  a  seat  in  any  deliberative 
body ;  and  the  occasions  upon  which  he  appeared 
before  the  public  were  usually  of  a  more  or  less 
academic  character,  where  one  would  have  hardly 
looked  for  the  higher  flights  of  eloquence  from 
even  the  most  accomplished  orator.  In  any  judg 
ment  of  Bryant,  the  fact  must  never  be  lost  sight 
of  that  it  was  his  first  and  chief  ambition  from 
childhood  to  be  a  poet ;  to  the  Spirit  of  Poesy  he 
was  always  so  loyal  that  he  would  not  allow  him 
self  to  flirt,  even,  with  any  other  kind  of  fame.  He 
seemed  to  take  no  pride  in  being  one  of  the  best 
prose  writers  of  his  day,  nor  of  being  one  of  the 
most  successful  public  speakers.  It  is  easy  to  see 
by  what  he  did,  both  as  a  journalist  and  platform 
speaker,  that  he  might  have  excelled  himself  in 
both  characters  if  he  had  desired  to.  But  he  pre 
ferred  that  posterity  should  know  him  as  a  poet, 
and  was  content  that  all  his  other  work  should  be 
just  good  enough  not  to  impair  his  poetical  repute.1 

1  "I  honor  Mr.  Bryant,"  says  a  distinguished  contemporary 
poet,  "  for  his  laborious  life,  and  admire  him  for  the  determina 
tion  which  kept  him  a  poet  through  it  all.  The  child  was  father  to 
the  man,  and  the  man  never  forgot  the  child's  birthright  of  song, 


202  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

About  twenty  of  Bryant's  discourses  have  been 
preserved.  Most  of  them  were  delivered  after  his 
position  at  the  head  of  American  literature  was 
secure,  and  upon  occasions  when  no  other  person 
could  have  filled  his  place. 

His  first  effort  of  an  oratorical  nature  in  New 
York  was  at  a  meeting  of  the  National  Academy 
of  Design,  held  in  commemoration  of  Thomas  Cole, 
the  artist,  in  the  spring  of  1848.  It  is  no  dispar 
agement  of  this  performance  to  say  that  it  would 
be  the  least  missed  perhaps  of  any  of  his  elaborate 
discourses.  He  had  been  very  intimate  with  Cole, 

—  the  divine  birthright  which  revealed  him  to  himself,  which 
brightened  his  brooding-  youth,  sustained  him  through  his  strug 
gling1  manhood,  and  consecrated  him  in  his  old  age.  The  cham 
bers  of  his  mind  were  crowded  with  guests  whom  he  would  not 
have  chosen  if  he  had  been  free  to  choose,  but  there  was  one 
chamber  into  which  they  never  penetrated,  — into  which  nothing 
common  ever  penetrated,  in  that  it  was  the  innermost  sanctuary 
of  his  soul.  The  poems  that  he  wrote  in  New  York  and  else 
where  were  of  the  same  general  character  as  those  that  he  wrote 
at  Cummington,  the  only  difference  between  them  being  that  the 
later  ones  are  riper  and  more  mature  than  the  earlier  ones,  larger 
in  intention  and  scope,  of  broader  and  higher  significance,  more 
thoughtful  and  meditative,  more  serious  and  dignified,  more 
purely  poetical  and  imaginative,  —  in  a  single  word,  of  greater 
distinction.  What  separates  them  from  all  other  American 
poems  is  imagination,  which  was  the  supreme  quality  of  his 
genius,  and  which,  while  it  is  nowhere  absent  from  his  verse,  is 
omnipresent  in  his  blank  verse,  which  is  the  best  that  has  been 
written  by  any  modern  poet  whatever,  —  the  most  sustained, 
the  most  impressive,  the  most  unforgettable.  No  one  can  read 
'  Thanatopsis, '  'The  Prairies,'  'The  Antiquity  of  Freedom,' 
and  '  The  Flood  of  Years  '  without  feeling  that  Mr.  Bryant  was 
a  great  poet.''  —  Richard  H.  Stoddard,  in  Lippincotf  s  Magazine, 
November,  1889. 


THE   ORATOR.  203 

was  fond  of  him,  and  he  held  in  great  respect  the 
kind  of  cleverness  which,  till  then,  he  had  not  seen 
much  of  in  any  one  but  Cole.  It  was,  however,  so 
manifestly  inspired  by  feelings  of  personal  regard 
as  to  lack  something  of  the  judicial  impartiality 
which  gives  so  much  dignity  to  his  later  discourses. 

The  death  of  James  Fenimore  Cooper  furnished 
the  next,  I  might  say  the  first,  occasion  for  his  ap 
pearance  as  the  official  interpreter  of  a  national 
emotion.  His  discourse  on  this  occasion  and  his 
address  on  the  death  of  Irving  are  models  of  com 
memorative  oratory.  With  a  grateful  appreciation 
of  everything  in  the  life  and  work  of  both  that 
entitled  them  to  the  gratitude  and  admiration  of 
posterity,  there  is  not  a  lineament  exaggerated  nor 
a  merit  overlooked  or  overstated,  while  the  criti 
cism  is  so  discriminating  and  amiable  that  the  most 
loyal  friend  of  either  could  find  nothing  in  them 
to  which  they  could  take  exception.  Upon  the 
deaths  of  Halleck  in  1868  and  of  Verplanck  in 
1870,  it  was  to  Bryant  that  every  eye  turned  as 
the  fittest  person  to  say  the  last  word  at  their 
tombs. 

The  charms  of  these  four  discourses  entitle 
them  to  a  permanent  place  in  our  literature,  and  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  no  judgment  that  may  hereafter 
be  passed  upon  either  of  these  eminent  writers,  not 
conforming  substantially  with  that  pronounced  in 
these  discourses,  is  likely  to  endure. 

During  the  later  years  of  his  life  there  was  no 
one  whose  presence  was  more  sought  for  on  public 


204  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

occasions  in  New  York  than  Mr.  Bryant,  and  he 
rarely  refused  these  applications  unless  he  could 
offer  a  satisfactory  excuse,  though  he  never  encour 
aged  them,  and  sometimes  lost  patience  at  the  fre 
quency  and  pertinacity  with  which  they  were 
pressed  upon  him. 

All  his  discourses  are  conspicuous  by  a  "  vir 
ginal  modesty,"  and  the  absence  of  all  apparent 
effort  to  withdraw  the  interest  of  his  audience  from 
the  occasion  to  himself.  He  never  seemed  to  ask 
or  expect  fame  from  his  speeches,  and  yet  he  never 
made  a  speech,  however  unpreparedly,  that  did  not 
by  its  elevation  of  thought,  or  its  scholarly  allu 
sions,  or  its  cheerful  humor,  or  its  graces  of  form, 
or  some  or  all  these  qualities  combined,  betray 
what  Confucius  was  wont  to  call  "  the  superior 
man,"  nor  one  which  does  not  possess  some  charm 
sure  to  beguile  the  attention  of  the  most  indiffer 
ent  reader. 

At  the  dinner  given  to  the  late  Professor  Morse 
in  1868,  he  made  a  brief  address  in  which  there 
were  passages  that  would  add  a  leaf  to  the  chaplet 
of  any  orator,  ancient  or  modern.  Speaking  of 
Morse's  great  invention  he  said  :  — 

"  There  is  one  view  of  this  great  invention  which 
impresses  me  with  awe.  Beside  me  at  this  board, 
along  wi'th  the  illustrious  man  whom  we  are  met  to 
honor,  and  whose  name  will  go  down  to  the  latest 
generations  of  civilized  man,  sits  the  gentleman  to 
whose  clear-sighted  perseverance,  and  to  whose 
energy,  —  an  energy  which  knew  no  discourage- 


THE    ORATOR.  205 

ment,  no  weariness,  no  pause,  —  we  owe  it  that  the 
telegraph  has  been  laid  which  connects  the  Old 
World  with  the  New  through  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 
My  imagination  goes  clown  to  the  chambers  of  the 
middle  sea,  to  those  vast  depths  where  repose  the 
mystic  wire  on  beds  of  coral,  among  forests  of 
tangle,  or  on  the  bottom  of  the  dim  blue  gulfs, 
strewn  with  the  bones  of  whales  and  sharks,  skele 
tons  of  drowned  men,  and  ribs  and  masts  of  foun 
dered  barks,  laden  with  wedges  of  gold  never  to  be 
coined,  and  pipes  of  the  choicest  vintages  of  earth 
never  to  be  tasted.  Through  these  watery  soli 
tudes,  among  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep,  the 
abode  of  perpetual  silence,  never  visited  by  living 
human  presence  and  beyond  the  sight  of  human 
eye,  there  are  gliding  to  and  fro,  by  night  and  by 
day,  in  light  and  in  darkness,  in  calm  and  in  tem 
pest,  currents  of  human  thought  borne  by  the  elec 
tric  pulse  which  obeys  the  bidding  of  man.  That 
slender  wire  thrills  with  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
nations  ;  it  vibrates  to  every  emotion  that  can  be 
awakened  by  any  event  affecting  the  welfare  of  the 
human  race.  A  volume  of  contemporary  history 
passes  every  hour  of  the  day  from  one  continent  to 
the  other.  An  operator  on  the  Continent  of  Eu 
rope  gently  touches  the  keys  of  an  instrument  in 
his  quiet  room,  a  message  is  shot  with  the  swiftness 
of  light  through  the  abysses  of  the  sea,  and  before 
his  hand  is  lifted  from  the  machine  the  story  of  re 
volts  and  revolutions,  of  monarchs  dethroned  and 
new  dynasties  set  up  in  their  place,  of  battles  and 


206  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

conquests  and  treaties  of  peace,  of  great  statesmen 
fallen  in  death,  lights  of  the  world  gone  out  and 
new  luminaries  glimmering  on  the  horizon,  is  writ 
ten  down  in  another  quiet  room  on  the  other  side 
of  the  globe. 

"  Mr.  President,  I  see  in  the  circumstances  which 
I  have  enumerated  a  new  proof  of  the  superiority 
of  mind  to  matter,  of  the  independent  existence  of 
that  part  of  our  nature  which  we  call  the  spirit, 
when  it  can  thus  subdue,  enslave,  and  educate  the 
subtilest,  the  most  active,  and  in  certain  of  its 
manifestations  the  most  intractable  and  terrible,  of 
the  elements,  making  it  in  our  hands  the  vehicle 
of  thought,  and  compelling  it  to  speak  every  lan 
guage  of  the  civilized  world.  I  infer  the  capacity 
of  the  spirit  for  a  separate  state  of  being,  its  inde 
structible  essence  and  its  noble  destiny,  and  I 
thank  the  great  discoverer  whom  we  have  assem 
bled  to  honor  for  this  confirmation  of  my  faith." 

Darwin's  theory  of  the  consanguinity  of  man 
and  the  lower  animals  was  rarely  if  ever,  in  so  few 
words,  put  more  effectively  on  the  defensive  than 
in  Bryant's  brief  address  at  a  Williams  College 
Alumni  dinner  in  1871.  "Admitting,"  he  says, 
"  that  we  are  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  the 
baboon  and  the  rat,  where  does  he  find  his  proof 
that  we  are  improving  instead  of  degenerating  ? 
He  claims  that  man  is  an  improved  monkey  ;  how 
does  he  know  that  the  monkey  is  not  a  degenerate 
man,  a  decayed  branch  of  the  human  family,  fallen 
away  from  the  high  rank  he  once  held,  and  haunted 


THE  ORATOR.  207 

by  a  dim  sentiment  of  his  lost  dignity,  as  we  may 
infer  from  his  melancholy  aspect  ?  Improvement, 
Mr.  President  and  gentlemen,  implies  effort :  it  is 
up-hill  work ;  degeneracy  is  easy :  it  asks  only 
neglect,  indolence,  inaction.  How  often  do  the 
descendants  of  illustrious  men  become  the  most 
stupid  of  the  human  race  !  How  many  are  there, 
each  of  whom  we  may  call 

' '  '  The  tenth  transmitter  of  a  foolish  face  ' ! 

—  a  line  of  Savage,  the  best  he  ever  wrote,  worth 
all  his  other  verses  put  together  — '  The  tenth 
transmitter  of  a  foolish  face '  —  and  that  face 
growing  more  and  more  foolish  from  generation  to 
generation.  I  might  instance  the  Bourbon  family, 
lately  reigning  in  Spain  and  Naples.  I  might  in 
stance  the  royal  family  of  Austria.  There  is  a 
whole  nation,  millions  upon  millions,  —  our  Chinese 
neighbors,  —  of  whom  the  better  opinion  is  that 
they  have  been  going  backward  in  civilization  from 
century  to  century.  Perhaps  they  wear  the  pig 
tail  as  an  emblem  of  what  they  are  all  coming  to 
some  thousands  of  years  hence.  How,  then,  can 
Mr.  Darwin  insist  that  if  we  admit  the  near  kin 
dred  of  man  to  the  inferior  animals  we  must  be 
lieve  that  our  progress  has  been  upward,  and  that 
the  nobler  animals  are  the  progeny  of  the  inferior  ? 
Is  not  the  contrary  the  more  probable  ?  Is  it  not 
more  likely  that  the  more  easy  downward  road  has 
been  taken,  that  the  lower  animals  are  derived 
from  some  degenerate  branch  of  the  human  race, 


208  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

and  that,  if  we  do  not  labor  to  keep  the  rank  we 
hold,  our  race  may  be  frittered  away  into  the 
meaner  tribes  of  animals,  and  finally  into  animal- 
culse  ?  Then  may  our  Tweeds  become  the  progen 
itors  of  those  skulking  thieves  of  the  Western  wilds, 
the  prairie-wolves,  or  swim  stagnant  pools  in  the 
shape  of  horse-leeches ;  or  astute  lawyers  may  be 
represented  by  foxes,  our  great  architects  by  colo 
nies  of  beavers,  our  poets  by  clouds  of  mosquitoes 
famished  and  musical ;  our  doctors  of  divinity  — 
I  say  it  with  all  respect  for  the  cloth  —  by  swarms 
of  the  mantis,  or  praying  insect,  always  in  the  atti 
tude  of  devotion.  If  we  hold  to  Darwin's  theory, 
—  as  I  do  not,  —  how  are  we  to  know  that  the  vast 
multitudes  of  men  and  women  on  the  earth  are  not 
the  ruins,  so  to  speak,  of  some  nobler  species,  with 
more  elevated  and  perfect  faculties,  mental,  physi 
cal,  and  moral,  but  now  extinct  ? 

"  Let  me  say,  then,  to  those  who  believe  in  the 
relationship  of  the  animal  tribes,  that  it  behooves 
them  to  avoid  the  danger  which  I  have  pointed 
out  by  giving  a  generous  support  to  those  institu 
tions  of  wholesome  learning,  like  Williams  Col 
lege,  designed  to  hold  us  back  from  the  threatened 
degeneracy  of  which  there  are  fearful  portents 
abroad  —  portents  of  moral  degeneracy,  at  least. 
Let  them  move  before  we  begin  to  squeak  like 
bats  or  gibber  like  apes ;  before  that  mark  of  the 
brute,  the  tail,  has  sprouted,  or,  at  least,  while  it 
is  in  the  tender  germ,  the  mere  bud,  giving  but 
a  faint  and  indistinct  promise  of  what  it  may 


THE   ORATOR.  209 

become  when  the  owner  shall  coil  its  extremity 
around  the  horizontal  branch  of  a  tree  and  swing 
himself  by  it  from  one  trunk  of  the  forest  to 
another.  If  any  one  here  be  conscious  of  but  a 
friendly  leaning  to  the  monkey  theory,  let  him 
contribute  liberally  to  the  fund  for  putting  up  a 
building  where  the  students  of  Williams  College 
can  be  cheaply  boarded ;  if  the  taint  have  struck 
deeper,  let  him  found  a  scholarship ;  if  he  have 
fully  embraced  the  theory,  let  him,  at  any  sacri 
fice,  found  a  professorship,  and  then,  although  his 
theory  may  be  wrong,  his  practice  in  this  instance 
will  be  worthy  of  universal  commendation." 1 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  effect  of  the 
following  passage  in  a  speech  delivered  at  a  mass 
meeting  held  in  1874  to  denounce  the  issue  of 
more  irredeemable  paper  :  — 

"  Will  you  hear  an  anecdote  illustrative  of  this 
topic  ?  It  was  some  forty  years  ago  that  a  tall, 
thin  gentleman,  in  a  long  great-coat  and  a  cap, 
stalked  into  the  Mechanics'  Bank  in  this  city.  He 
leisurely  took  from  his  pocket-book  a  five-dollar 
note  of  the  bank,  and  laying  it  before  the  teller, 
requested  its  payment.  The  teller  said,  '  We  do 
not  pay  our  notes. '  The  tall,  thin  man  —  who  it 
appeared  was  John  Randolph  —  put  on  his  specta 
cles  and  read  the  note  in  a  high-keyed  voice. 
' "  The  president  and  directors  of  the  Mechanics' 
Bank  promise  to  pay  the  bearer  five  dollars,  value 

1  Whether  as  a  specimen  of  his  logic  or  his  humor,  is  not  this 
worthy  of  Dr.  Franklin  at  his  best  ? 


210  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

received."  There,  I  want  the  five  dollars  which 
you  promise  to  pay.'  '  But  we  do  not  pay,'  re 
joined  the  teller  ;  the  banks  have  suspended  pay 
ment.'  '  Oh,  stopped  payment !  Then  let  me  tell 
you  what  to  do.  Take  the  sledge-hammer  out  of 
the  hand  that  hangs  over  your  door,  and  in  its 
place  put  a  razor.'  My  friends,  if  Congress  should 
be  moved  by  this  clamor  to  disgrace  the  country 
by  issuing  more  notes,  the  condition  of  whose  ex 
istence  is  to  be  dishonored,  may  we  not  take  a  hint 
from  this  anecdote  ?  What  business  will  the  king 
of  birds  —  the  eagle,  whose  flight  is  above  that  of 
all  other  fowls  of  the  air  —  have  on  an  escutcheon 
which  this  policy  will  disgrace  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  ?  Let  his  image  then  be  blotted  out ;  ob 
literate  also  the  stars  of  heaven  ;  efface  the  stripes 
of  morning  light  which  should  be  the  promise  of 
a  day  of  glory  and  honor,  and,  instead  of  those 
emblems,  let  the  limner  draw  on  the  broad  sheet 
the  image  of  a  razor  huge  enough  to  be  wielded 
by  the  Giant  Despair,  —  a  gentleman  with  whom, 
if  this  demand  for  more  paper-money  be  granted, 
we  are  destined  to  scrape  a  closer  acquaintance 
than  we  have  enjoyed  yet,  —  and  on  the  enormous 
blade  let  the  words  be  inscribed,  in  staring  letters, 
4  Warranted  to  shave.'  " 

I  ask  indulgence  for  one  more  specimen  of  Bry 
ant's  oratory,  taken  from  a  speech  made  at  a  din 
ner  given  him  by  the  Free  Trade  League  in  New 
York  in  1868. 

"  Yet  there  is  a  certain  plausibility  in  what  the 


THE    ORATOR.  211 

protectionists  say  when  they  talk  of  home  industry, 
and  a  home  market,  —  a  plausibility  which  misleads 
many  worthy  and  otherwise  sensible  people,  — 
sensible  in  all  other  respects,  and  whom  as  men  I 
admire  and  honor.  There  are  clever  men  among 
them  who  bring  to  their  side  of  the  question  a 
great  array  of  facts,  many  of  which,  however,  have 
110  real  bearing  upon  its  solution.  There  is  a 
plausibility,  too,  in  the  idea  that  the  sun  makes  a 
daily  circuit  around  the  earth,  and  if  there  were 
any  private  interests  to  be  promoted  in  maintain 
ing  it,  we  should  have  thousands  believing  that 
the  earth  stands  while  the  sun  travels  round  it. 
4  See  for  yourself,'  they  would  say.  '  Will  you  not 
believe  the  evidence  of  your  own  senses  ?  The 
sun  comes  up  in  the  east  every  day  before  your 
eyes,  stands  over  your  head  at  noon,  and  goes  down 
in  the  afternoon  in  the  west.  Why,  you  admit  the 
fact  when  you  say, "  the  sun  rises,"  "  the  sun  sets," 
"  the  sun  is  up,"  "  the  sun  is  down."  What  a  fool 
was  Galileo,  what  nonsense  is  the  system  of  Coper 
nicus,  what  trash  was  written  by  Sir  Isaac  New 
ton  !' 

"  I  remember  a  case  in  point,  an  anecdote  I 
once  heard  in  Scotland.  A  writer  to  the  signet, 
that  is  to  say  an  attorney  named  Moll,  who  knew 
very  little  except  what  related  to  the  drawing  up 
of  law  papers,  once  heard  a  lecture  on  Astronomy 
in  which  some  illustrations  were  given  of  the  daily 
revolution  of  the  earth  on  its  axis.  The  attorney 
was  perplexed  and  bewildered  by  this  philosophy 


212  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

which  was  so  new  to  him,  and  one  day,  his 
thoughts  frequently  recurring  to  the  subject,  he 
looked  up  from  his  law-papers  and  said :  4  The 
young  mon  says  the  warld  turns  roond.  It 's  vera 
extraordinar'.  I  've  lived  in  this  place  sax  and 
thretty  years  and  that  grass-plot  preserves  the  same 
relative  poseetion  to  the  house  that  it  had  sax  and 
thretty  years  sin',  and  yet  the  young  mon  says  the 
warld  turns  roond.  It 's  vera  extraordinar'.'  Here 
was  a  man  who  was  not  to  be  taken  in  by  this  non 
sense  about  the  earth  revolving  on  its  axis,  and  if 
there  were  any  real  or  imaginary  pecuniary  advan 
tage  to  be  gained  by  denying  it,  Mr.  Moll  would 
have  a  whole  army,  of  his  way  of  thinking,  many  of 
them  far  wiser  and  better  informed  in  other  re 
spects  than  he." 

Bryant  was  accustomed  to  think  over  and  mem 
orize  and  not  infrequently  write  out  what  he  wished 
to  say,  when  he  had  sufficient  notice  of  what  was 
expected  of  him,1  though  his  most  unpremeditated 

1  His  memory  once,  and  for  the  first  time,  served  him  a  scurvy 
trick,  which  depressed  him  very  much.  A  friend  of  his  who  wit 
nessed  it  has  made  the  following-  account  of  the  scene  :  "It  was 
at  a  public  dinner,  I  think,  and  during-  the  last  decade  of  his  life, 
that  he  was  called  upon  and  expected  to  speak.  He  had  not  pro 
ceeded  far  in  his  discourse  when  he  stopped,  obviously  having-  lost 
its  thread.  He  stood  a  few  seconds  in  silence  and  then  sat  down. 
Before  another  speaker  had  been  called  upon,  however,  he  rose 
ag-ain  and  resumed  his  speech,  but  alas!  only  for  a  sentence  or 
two.  He  lost  the  thread  again,  sat  down,  and  made  no  farther 
effort  to  resume.  On  leaving1  the  hall  I  joined  him,  and  we 
walked  together  to  his  house.  As  soon  as  we  were  alone  in  the 
street,  he  said  in  a  tone  which  showed  plainly  how  much  the  ut 
terance  cost  him,  '  I  see  I  must  attempt  no  more  public  speeches ; 


THE  ORATOR.  213 

speeches  had  merits  all  their  own.  I  do  not  recall 
a  single  one  which  did  not  contain  something  that 
was  worthy  of  preservation.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
his  elocution  added  much  to  the  effectiveness  of  his 
discourse.  His  voice  was  not  rounded  and  full  nor 
very  flexible,  and  therefore  lent  but  little  force  or 
light  and  shade  to  his  discourse ;  nor  did  he  ever 
wholly  overcome  a  certain  monotony  of  manner 
which  made  the  hearer  of  the  poem  read  before 
the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  at  Cambridge  in 
18211  exclaim,  "If  Everett  had  read  this  poem, 
what  a  sensation  it  would  have  produced !  "  His 
modesty  and  utter  self-effacement  always  more 
than  made  up  with  his  audience  for  any  lack  of 
elocutionary  skill.  I  cannot  better  conclude  what 
I  have  to  say  of  Bryant  as  a  platform  speaker  than 
with  the  following  extract  from  some  comments 

my  memory  never  served  me  such  a  trick  before  in  all  my  life.' 
I  comforted  him  as  well  as  I  could  by  saying  that  he  had  been 
too  fatigued  by  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  that  I  had  no  doubt 
after  suitable  rest  he  would  find  his  memory  just  as  faithful  a 
servant  and  friend  as  ever.  The  fact  that  his  memory  could  tire, 
and  like  himself  was  growing  old,  not  merely  in  years,  was  a 
revelation  to  him.  Painful  as  is  the  spectacle  always  of  a  speaker 
betrayed  before  an  aiidience  by  his  memory,  there  was  one  most 
gratifying  incident  in  the  case  I  have  described.  No  power  of 
eloquence  from  Mr.  Bryant's  lips  could  have  drawn  from  that 
audience  the  manifestations  of  sympathy  for  him  which  followed 
the  suspension  of  his  speech,  and  which  said  as  plainly  as  if  ut 
tered  in  words,  '  No  matter  about  the  speech ;  nothing  you  have 
said,  nothing  you  coiild  have  said,  nothing  you  have  left  unsaid, 
could  make  us  love  and  respect  you  more  or  less  than  we  do 
now'  ': 

1   The  Ages. 


214  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

upon  his  "  Discourses  "  from  the  pen  of  the  late 
George  Ripley,  one  of  the  most  learned  and  judi 
cious  literary  critics  of  his  time. 

"  He  was  always  the  honored  guest  of  the  evening,  and 
the  moment  in  which  he  was  to  be  called  upon  to  speak 
was  awaited  with  eager  expectation  that  never  ended  in 
disappointment.  He  was  singularly  happy  in  seizing 
the  tone  of  the  company,  no  matter  what  were  the  cir 
cumstances  or  the  occasion  ;  his  remarks  were  not  only 
pertinent,  but  eminently  felicitous ;  with  no  pretensions 
to  artificial  eloquence,  he  was  always  impressive,  often 
pathetic,  and  sometimes  quietly  humorous,  with  a  zest 
and  pungency  that  touched  the  feelings  of  the  audience 
to  the  quick. 

"  On  more  important  public  occasions,  when  the 
principal  speech  of  the  day  was  assigned  to  him,  he  dis 
charged  the  trust  with  a  tranquil  dignity  of  manner,  a 
serene  self-possession,  and  an  amplitude  of  knowledge 
and  illustration  that  invariably  won  the  admiration  of 
the  spectators.  His  last  address  of  this  kind,  delivered 
on  the  day  of  his  fatal  attack,  at  the  unveiling  of  the 
bust  of  Mazzini  in  Central  Park,  was  a  masterpiece  of 
descriptive  oratory,  unsurpassed  by  any  of  his  previous 
efforts  for  a  similar  purpose.  Never  was  there  a  more 
just  or  feeling  tribute  to  the  Italian  patriot.  Seldom 
has  been  presented  a  more  discriminating  analysis  of  a 
great  political  career,  or  a  finer  portraiture  of  the  ad 
mirable  qualities  of  a  noble  and  heroic  personage." 


CHAPTER  X. 

PUBLIC    HONORS. 

THOUGH  occupied  most  of  liis  life  in  shaping 
the  opinions  of  his  country  people  upon  questions 
of  public  policy,  Bryant  never  held  any  political 
office  or  dignity.1  Under  a  popular  government, 
the  representative  man  is  usually  as  near  to  the 
average  of  the  popular  intelligence  and  morality 
as  the  machinery  provided  for  ascertaining  public 
opinion  permits.  Our  government's  trusts  are 
therefore  rarely  confided,  or  its  honors  bestowed, 
upon  the  comparatively  restricted  class  of  "  supe 
rior  men,"  and  for  the  very  sufficient  reason  that 
this  class  would  not  fairly  represent  the  wishes  of 
the  great  majority,  which  it  is  the  proper  function 
of  popular  governments  to  consult.  There  are 
none,  probably,  who  would  hesitate  to  admit  that 
Bryant's  standards,  morally  and  intellectually,  were 
too  far  above  the  average  of  his  countrymen  to 
make  him  in  any  political  sense  a  representative 
man.  Niagara  is  not  a  representative  waterfall. 

1  His  brief  discharge  of  the  duties  of  Tithing-man,  Town 
Clerk,  and  Justice  of  the  Peace  during  the  moulting  season  of  his 
career  as  a  lawyer  at  Great  Barringtou  hardly  suffices  to  qualify 
this  statement. 


216  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  any  important  public 
station  in  which  Bryant  would  have  proved  accept 
able  to  so  large  a  number  as  many  of  his  contem 
poraries,  in  both  those  respects  his  inferiors,  would 
have  proved,  or  of  any  public  office  which  would 
not  have  gained  from  him  more  dignity  and  con 
sideration  than  it  could  confer. 

Republics  in  our  day  and  "  with  all  the  modern 
improvements  "  have  in  this  respect  no  particular 
advantage  over  any  of  their  predecessors.  The 
stream  of  popular  favor  never  rises  higher  than 
its  fountain,  and  public  honors,  like  kissing,  go  as 
much  by  favor  now  as  when  Caesar's  barber  was 
made  a  senator,  and  honored  witli  a  gorgeous  mon 
ument  for  his  noisy  hostility  to  Pompey.1 

Though  Bryant  never  received,  nor  if  offered 
would  probably  have  accepted,  any  of  those  honors 
and  distinctions  which  are  commonly  regarded  as 
the  only  satisfactory  reward  of  the  successful  poli- 

1  Some  Roman  wag  proposed  the  following  epitaph  for  the 
tomb  of  this  barber,  whose  name  was  Licinus  :  — 

"  Marmoreo  Licinus  tumulo  jacet,  at  Cato  parvo, 
Pompeius  nullo ;  " 

which  may  be  thus  Englished  :  - 

"  For  Licinus  we  built  a  tomb  of  marble,  oh  how  tall ! 
For  Cato  but  a  lifctle  one,  for  great  Pompey  none  at  all." 

This  epitaph  recalls  the  fact  that  the  commissioners  of  the  New- 
York  Central  Park,  in  order  to  prevent  the  erection  of  a  monu 
mental  statue  within  its  precincts  to  the  notorious  Tweed,  made 
a  rule  that  no  monument  should  be  placed  in  the  Park  in  honor  of 
any  one  who  had  not  been  dead  five  years,  which  rule  for  that 
period,  at  least,  excluded  a  bust  of  Bryant  which  was  offered  to 
the  commissioners,  and  before  that  time  expired  Tweed  was  in 
the  Tombs. 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  217 

tician,  he  had  no  lack  of  public  distinction  and 
popular  consideration,  such,  too,  as  governments 
have  not  to  give. 

Upon  his  return  in  1836  from  his  first  trip  to 
Europe,  he  was  invited  to  accept  a  public  dinner 
by  the  most  eminent  literary  men  in  the  country, 
Irving,  Halleck,  Verplanck,  and  Paulding  head 
ing  the  list,  that  "  they  might  express  their  high 
sense  of  his  literary  merits  and  estimable  charac 
ter,"  and  congratulate  him  upon  his  safe  return. 

Out  of  the  excess  of  his  modesty  Bryant  de 
clined  this  honor.  "  I  cannot  but  feel,"  he  said  in 
his  reply,  "  that  although  it  might  be  worthily 
conferred  upon  one  whose  literary  labors  had  con 
tributed  to  raise  the  reputation  of  his  country,1 
I  who  have  passed  the  period  of  my  absence  only 
in  observation  and  study  have  done  nothing  to 
merit  such  a  distinction." 

While  absent  in  Europe  in  1858,  he  was  elected 
a  Regent  of  the  University  of  the  State  of  New 
York.  The  mail  following  that  which  bore  to 
him  the  intelligence  brought  me  the  following  let 
ter :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  learn,  through  the  news 
papers,  that  I  have  been  elected  by  the  New  York 
Legislature  a  Regent  of  the  University.  I  will 
not  affect  to  undervalue  the  favorable  opinion  of 
so  respectable  a  public  body,  manifested  in  so 
spontaneous  a  manner,  without  the  least  solicita- 

1  Obviously  alluding  to  what  Irving-  had  done  during-  his  ab 
sence  in  Europe,  and  who  did  accept  a  dinner  upon  his  return. 


218  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

tion  on  the  part  of  my  friends,  and  I  beg  that  this 
letter  may  be  used  as  an  expression  of  my  best 
thanks. 

"  There  are,  however,  many  motives  which  make 
it  necessary  for  me  to  decline  the  appointment, 
and  among  these  are  my  absence  from  the  country, 
the  inconvenience  of  combining  the  duties  of  the 
place  with  the  pursuits  in  which  I  am  engaged 
when  at  home,  and  my  aversion  to  any  form  of 
public  life  now,  by  my  long  habit  made,  I  fear,  in 
vincible.  I  therefore  desire  by  this  letter  to  re 
turn  the  appointment  to  the  kind  hands  which 
have  sought  to  confer  it  upon  me,  confident  that 
some  worthier  person  will  easily  be  found,  who 
will  bring  the  necessary  alacrity  to  "the  perform 
ance  of  its  duties. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  very  truly  yours, 

W.  C.  BRYANT." 

To  JOHN  BIGELOW. 

It  was  no  mean  compliment  to  Bryant's  emi 
nence  of  character  that  when  Abraham  Lincoln 
came  to  deliver  a  lecture  in  New  York  immedi 
ately  after  his  famous  canvass  for  the  senatorship 
with  Senator  Douglas  in  Illinois,  that  the  politi 
cians  stood  aside  and  Bryant  was  invited  to  pre 
side.  "  It  was  worth  the  journey  to  the  East," 
said  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  to  see  such  a  man." 

It  has  rarely  fallen  to  the  lot  of  any  man  of  let 
ters  to  receive  during  his  lifetime  a  more  grateful 
tribute  of  affection  and  respect  than  was  bestowed 
upon  Bryant  on  his  seventieth  birthday,  November 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  219 

3,  1864.  The  Century  Club,  of  which  he  had  been 
one  of  the  founders,  resolved  to  make  it  the  occa 
sion  of  a  festival  in  his  honor.  All  the  prominent 
men  of  letters  and  artists  of  the  country  partici 
pated.  Bancroft,  then  president  of  the  Century, 
greeted  Bryant  on  his  arrival  with  a  brief  address. 
"Our  tribute  to  you,"  he  said,  "  is  to  the  poet,  but 
we  should  not  have  paid  it  had  we  not  revered  you 
as  a  man.  Your  blameless  life  is  a  continuous 
record  of  patriotism  and  integrity;  and  passing 
untouched  through  the  fiery  conflicts  that  grow 
out  of  the  ambition  of  others,  you  have,  as  all 
agree,  preserved  a  perfect  consistency  with  your 
self,  and  an  unswerving  unselfish  fidelity  to  your 
convictions." 

Bryant's  reply  was  singularly  happy  and  becom 
ing,  the  more  so  as  there  was  nothing  more  diffi 
cult  for  him  than  to  talk  about  himself. 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "  for 
the  kind  words  you  have  uttered,  and  I  thank  this 
good-natured  company  for  having  listened  to  them 
with  so  many  tokens  of  assent  and  approbation. 
I  must  suppose,  however,  that  most  of  this  appro 
bation  was  bestowed  upon  the  orator  rather  than 
upon  his  subject.  He  who  has  brought  to  the 
writing  of  our  national  history  a  genius  equal  to 
the  vastness  of  the  subject  has,  of  course,  more 
than  talent  enough  for  humbler  tasks.  I  wonder 
not,  therefore,  that  he  should  be  applauded  this 
evening  for  the  skill  he  has  shown  in  embellishing 
a  barren  topic. 


220  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  I  am  congratulated  on  having  completed  my 
seventieth  year.  Is  there  nothing  ambiguous, 
Mr.  President,  in  such  a  compliment?  To  be 
congratulated  on  one's  senility!  To  be  congratu 
lated  on  having  reached  that  stage  of  life  when 
the  bodily  and  mental  powers  pass  into  decline 
and  decay !  Lear  is  made  by  Shakespeare  to  say, 

"  '  Age  is  unnecessary ;  ' 

and  a  later  poet,  Dr.  Johnson,  has  expressed  the 
same  idea  in  one  of  his  sonorous  lines  :  — 

"  'Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage.' 

You  have  not  forgotten,  Mr.   President,  the  old 
Greek  saying,  — 

"  '  Whom  the  gods  love  die  young,'  — 

nor  the  passage  in  Wordsworth :  — 

.  .  .  u  '  Oh,  sir,  the  good  die  first, 
And  they  whose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer  dust, 
Burn  to  the  socket.' 

"  Much  has  been  said  of  the  wisdom  of  Old  Age. 
Old  Age  is  wise,  I  grant,  for  itself,  but  not  wise  for 
the  community.  It  is  wise  in  declining  new  enter 
prises,  for  it  has  not  the  power  nor  the  time  to 
execute  them  ;  wise  in  shrinking  from  difficulty, 
for  it  has  not  the  strength  to  overcome  it ;  wise  in 
avoiding  danger,  for  it  lacks  the  faculty  of  ready 
and  swift  action,  by  which  dangers  are  parried  and 
converted  into  advantages.  But  this  is  not  wisdom 
for  mankind  at  large,  by  whom  new  enterprises 
must  be  undertaken,  dangers  met,  and  difficulties 
surmounted.  What  a  world  would  this  be  if  it 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  221 

were  made  up  of  old  men  !  —  generation  succeeding 
generation  of  hoary  ancients  who  had  but  a  dozen 
years  or  perhaps  half  that  time  to  live  !  What 
new  work  of  good  would  be  attempted  ?  What 
existing  abuse  or  evil  corrected?  What  strange 
subjects  would  such  a  world  afford  for  the  pencils 
of  our  artists  —  groups  of  superannuated  gray- 
beards  basking  in  the  sun  through  the  long  days 
of  spring,  or  huddling  like  sheep  in  warm  corners 
in  the  winter  time  ;  houses  with  the  timbers  drop 
ping  apart ;  cities  in  ruins  ;  roads  un wrought  and 
impassable ;  weedy  gardens  and  fields  with  the 
surface  feebly  scratched  to  put  in  a  scanty  harvest ; 
decrepit  old  men  clambering  into  crazy  wagons, 
perhaps  to  be  run  away  with,  or  mounting  horses, 
if  they  mounted  them  at  all,  in  terror  of  being 
hurled  from  their  backs  like  a  stone  from  a  sling. 
Well  it  is  that  in  this  world  of  ours  the  old  men 
are  but  a  very  small  minority. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  President,  if  we  could  but  stop  this 
rushing  tide  of  time  that  bears  us  so  swiftly 
onward,  and  make  it  flow  towards  its  source  ;  if  we 
could  cause  the  shadow  to  turn  back  on  the  dial- 
plate  !  I  see  before  me  many  excellent  friends  of 
mine,  worthy  to  live  a  thousand  years,  on  whose 
countenances  years  have  set  their  seal,  marking 
them  with  the  lines  of  thought  and  care,  and 
causing  their  temples  to  glisten  with  the  frosts  of 
life's  autumn.  If  to  any  one  of  them  could  be 
restored  his  glorious  prime,  his  golden  youth,  with 
its  hyacinthine  locks,  its  smooth,  unwrinkled  brow, 


222  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

its  fresh  and  rounded  cheek,  its  pearly  and  perfect 
teeth,  its  lustrous  eyes,  its  light  and  bounding  step, 
its  frame  full  of  energy,  its  exulting  spirits,  its  high 
hopes,  its  generous  impulses,  and,  added  to  all 
these,  the  experience  and  fixed  principles  of  mature 
age,  I  am  sure,  Mr.  President,  that  I  should  start 
at  once  to  rny  feet,  and  propose  that  in  commemo 
ration  of  such  a  marvel,  and  by  way  of  congratu 
lating  our  friend  who  was  its  subject,  we  should 
hold  such  a  festivity  as  the  Century  has  never  seen 
nor  will  ever  see  again.  Eloquence  should  bring 
its  highest  tribute,  and  Art  its  fairest  decorations 
to  grace  the  festival ;  the  most  skillful  musicians 
should  be  here  with  all  manner  of  instruments  of 
music,  ancient  and  modern ;  we  would  have  sack- 
but,  and  trumpet,  and  shawm,  and  damsels  with 
dulcimers,  and  a  modern  band  three  times  as  large 
as  the  one  that  now  plays  on  that  balcony.  But 
why  dwell  on  such  a  vain  dream,  since  it  is  only  by 
passing  through  the  darkness  that  overhangs  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  that  man  can  reach 
his  second  youth  ? 

*'  I  have  read,  in  descriptions  of  the  Old  World,  of 
the  families  of  princes  and  barons  coming  out  of 
their  castles  to  be  present  at  some  rustic  festivity, 
such  as  a  wedding  of  one  of  their  peasantry.  I  am 
reminded  of  this  custom  by  the  presence  of  many 
literary  persons  of  eminence  in  these  rooms,  and  I 
thank  them  for  this  act  of  benevolence.  Yet  I 
miss  among  them  several  whom  I  had  wished  rather 
than  ventured  to  hope  that  I  should  meet  on  this 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  223 

occasion.  I  miss  my  old  friend  Dana,  who  gave  so 
grandly  the  story  of  the  Buccaneer  in  his  solemn 
verses.  I  miss  Pierpont,  venerable  in  years,  yet 
vigorous  in  mind  and  body,  and  with  an  undimmed 
fancy ;  and  him  whose  pages  are  wet  with  the  tears 
of  maidens  who  read  the  story  of  Evangeline ;  and 
the  author  of  4  Fanny  and  the  Croakers,'  no  less 
renowned  for  the  fiery  spirit  which  animated  his 
'Marco  Bozzaris; '  and  him  to  whose  wit  we  owe  the 
4  Biglow  Papers,'  who  has  made  a  lowly  flower  of 
the  wayside  as  classical  as  the  rose  of  Anacreon ; 
and  the  Quaker  poet,  whose  verses,  Quaker  as  he 
is,  stir  the  blood  like  the  voice  of  a  trumpet  calling 
to  battle ;  and  the  poetess  of  Hartford,  whose 
beautiful  lyrics  are  in  a  million  hands,  and  others, 
whose  names,  were  they  to  occur  to  me  here  as  in 
my  study,  I  might  accompany  with  the  mention  of 
some  characteristic  merit.  But  here  is  he  whose 
aerial  verse  has  raised  the  little  insect  of  our  fields 
making  his  murmuring  journey  from  flower  to 
flower,  the  humble-bee,  to  a  dignity  equal  to  that  of 
Pindar's  eagle  ;  here  is  the  Autocrat  of  the  Break 
fast  Table  —  author  of  that  most  spirited  of  naval 
lyrics,  beginning  with  the  line  :  - 

"  'Ay,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down  ; ' 

here,  too,  is  the  poet  who  told  in  pathetic  verse  the 
story  of  Jephtha's  daughter ;  and  here  are  others, 
worthy  compeers  of  those  I  have  mentioned,  yet 
greatly  my  juniors,  in  the  brightness  of  whose  rising 
fame  I  am  like  one  who  has  carried  a  lantern  in 


224  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

the  night,  and  who  perceives  that  its  beams  are  no 
longer  visible  in  the  glory  which  the  morning  pours 
around  him. 

"  To  them  and  to  all  the  members  of  the  Century, 
allow  me.  Mr.  President,  to  offer  the  wish  that  they 
may  live  longer  than  I  have  done,  in  health  of  body 
and  mind,  and  in  the  same  contentment  and  serenity 
of  spirit  which  has  fallen  to  my  lot.  I  must  not 
overlook  the  ladies  who  have  deigned  to  honor 
these  rooms  with  their  presence.  If  I  knew  where, 
amid,  myrtle  bowers  and  flowers  that  never  wither, 
gushed  from  the  ground  the  Fountain  of  Perpetual 
Youth  so  long  vainly  sought  by  the  first  Spanish 
adventurers  on  the  North  American  continent,  I 
would  offer  to  the  lips  of  every  one  of  them  a 
beaker  of  its  fresh  and  sparkling  waters,  and  bid 
them  drink  unfading  bloom.  But  since  that  is  not 
to  be,  I  will  wish  what,  perhaps,  is  as  well,  and 
what  some  would  think  better,  that  the  same  kind 
ness  of  heart  which  has  prompted  them  to  come 
hither  to-night  may  lend  a  beauty  to  every  action 
of  their  future  lives.  And  to  the  Century  itself, 
—  the  clear  old  Century,  —  to  whose  members  I  owe 
both  the  honors  and  the  embarrassments  of  this 
occasion,  —  to  that  association,  fortunate  in  having 
possessed  two  such  presidents  as  the  distinguished 
historian  who  now  occupies  the  chair  and  the 
eminent  and  accomplished  scholar  and  admirable 
writer  who  preceded  him,  I  offer  the  wish  that  it 
may  endure,  not  only  for  the  term  of  years  signi 
fied  by  its  name,  —  not  for  one  century  only,  but 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  225 

for  ten  centuries,  —  so  that  hereafter,  perhaps,  its 
members  may  discuss  the  question  whether  its 
name  should  not  be  changed  to  that  of  the  Club  of 
a  Thousand  Years,  and  that  these  may  be  centuries 
of  peace  and  prosperity,  from  which  its  members 
may  look  back  to  this  period  of  bloody  strife,  as  to 
a  frightful  dream  soon  chased  away  by  the  beams 
of  a  glorious  morning." 

But  the  tributes  from  others,  present  or  absent, 
were  naturally  the  more  significant  features  of  the 
occasion.  Poems  were  read  by  Dr.  Holmes,  Bay 
ard  Taylor,  Boker,  Stoddard,  T.  Buchanan  Read, 
Julia  Ward  Howe.  Other  poems  were  read  from 
Whittier,  Lowell,  H.  T.  Tuckerman,  Dr.  Allen, 
Rev.  H.  N.  Powers,  and  several  others  who  were 
unavoidably  absent.  Letters  of  congratulation 
were  also  read  from  the  Dan  as,  Everett,  Long 
fellow,  Pierpont,  Verplanck,  Halleck,  Sprague, 
Charles  T.  Brooks,  Miss  Sedgwick,  Goldwin 
Smith,  Dr.  Walker,  Bishop  Coxe,  and  others  with 
whose  names  the  public  is  less  familiar. 

Of  Dr.  Holmes's  verses,  which  were  illuminated 
by  the  earnestness  with  which  they  were  pro 
nounced,  the  following  were  in  his  happiest  vein  : 


'  How  can  we  praise  the  verse  whose  music  flows 
With  solemn  cadence  and  majestic  close, 
Pure  as  the  dew  that  niters  through  the  rose  ? 

How  shall  we  thank  him  that  in  evil  days 

He  faltered  never,  —  nor  for  blame  nor  praise, 

Nor  hire,  nor  party,  shamed  his  earlier  lays  ? 


226  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

11  But  as  his  boyhood  was  of  manliest  hue, 
So  to  his  youth,  his  manly  years  were  true, 
All  dyed  in  royal  purple  through  and  through ! 

"  Marbles  forget  their  message  to  mankind  : 
In  his  own  verse  the  poet  still  we  find, 
In  his  own  page  his  memory  lives  enshrined, 

"  As  in  their  amber  sweets  the  smothered  bees, 
As  the  fair  cedar,  fallen  before  the  breeze, 
Lies  self -embalmed  amidst  the  mouldering  trees." 

Emerson's  speech  concluded  as  follows.  "  Be 
fore  I  sit  down,  let  me  apply  to  him  a  verse  ad 
dressed  by  Thomas  Moore  to  the  poet  Crabbe, 
and  Moore  has  written  few  better  :  — 

' '  True  bard,  and  simple  as  the  race 
Of  heaven-born  poets  always  are, 
When  stooping  from  their  starry  place 
They  're  children  near  but  gods  afar.'  " 

Of  the  following  lines  from  a  poem  of  the  Eev. 
H.  N.  Powers,  all  who  are  familiar  with  Bryant's 
poetry  will  recognize  the  peculiar  felicity. 

"  Earth's  face  is  dearer  for  thy  gaze, 

The  fields  that  thou  hast  traveled  o'er 
Are  fuller  blossomed,  and  the  ways 
Of  toil  more  pleasant  than  before. 

"  The  April  pastures  breathe  more  sweet, 

The  brooks  in  deeper  musings  glide, 
Old  woodlands  grander  hymns  repeat, 
And  holier  seems  the  Autumn-tide. 

"  The  crystal  founts  and  summer  rains 

Are  haunted  now  with  pictured  grace, 

The  winds  have  learned  more  tender  strains 

And  greet  us  with  more  kind  embrace. 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  227 

"  More  meekly  pleads  each  flowret's  eye, 

On  gentler  errands  comes  the  snow, 
And  birds  write  on  the  evening-  sky 
More  gracious  lessons  as  they  go. 

"The  clouds,  the  stars,  the  sea,  the  grave, 

Wide  prairie  wastes  and  crowded  marts, 
All  that  is  fair,  and  good,  and  brave, 
In  peaceful  homes  and  gen'rous  hearts, 

"  Through  thee  their  wondrous  meanings  tell : 

And  as  men  go  to  work  and  pray 
Feeling  thy  song's  persuasive  spell 

Love's  face  seems  closer  o'er  their  way/' 

The  Kev.  John  Pierpont,  who  was  prevented  by 
age  and  infirmities  from  coming  to  the  festival,  sent 
a  letter,  from  which  the  following  is  an  extract :  — 

"  At  first  I  said  within  my  heart  I  '11  go  — 
But  second  thoughts  forbade  me  to  engage, 
At  such  a  time,  in  such  a  pilgrimage, 
My  health  infirm,  and  my  age 

—  (For  more  than  half  my  eightieth  year  is  spent)  — 
Admonish  me  to  stay  at  home  content, 
And  worship,  like  the  Sabian,  from  afar, 
Kissing  my  hand  towards  our  brightest  star." 

Lowell,  detained  at  home  by  a  serious  domestic 
affliction,  sent  some  verses  —  of  which  it  was  the 
least  of  their  merits  that  they  paid  the  tribute  of  a 
discriminating  homage  to  a  senior  brother  of  Par 
nassus  —  entitled  "  On  Board  the  Seventy-Six." 

"  Our  ship  lay  tumbling  in  an  angry  sea, 
Her  rudder  gone,  her  main-mast  o'er  the  side  ; 
Her  scuppers  from  the  waves'  clutch  staggering  free, 
Trailed  threads  of  priceless  crimson  through  the  tide  ; 
Sails,  shrouds,  and  spars  with  hostile  cannon  torn, 
We  lay  awaiting  morn. 


228  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  Awaiting  morn,  such  morn  as  mocks  despair  ; 
And  she  that  bore  the  promise  of  the  world 
Within  her  sides,  now  hopeless,  helmless,  bare, 
At  random  o'er  the  wildering  waters  hurled, 
The  wreck  of  battle  drifting  slow  a-lee, 
Not  sullener  than  we. 

"  But  one  there  was,  the  Singer  of  our  crew, 
Upon  whose  head  Age  waved  his  peaceful  sign, 
But  whose  red  heart 's-blood  no  surrender  knew  ; 
And  couchant  under  brows  of  massive  line, 
The  eyes,  like  guns  beneath  a  parapet, 
Watched,  charged  with  lightnings  yet. 

"  The  voices  of  the  hills  did  his  obey ; 

The  torrents  flashed  and  tumbled  in  his  song ; 
He  brought  our  native  fields  from  far  away, 
Or  set  us  mid  the  innumerable  throng 
Of  dateless  woods,  or  where  we  heard  the  calm 
Old  homesteads'  evening  psalm. 

* '  But  now  he  sang  of  faith  to  things  unseen, 
Of  freedom's  birthright  given  to  us  in  trust, 
And  words  of  doughty  cheer  he  spoke  between, 
That  made  all  earthly  fortune  seem  as  dust, 
Matched  with  that  duty,  old  as  time  and  new, 
Of  being  brave  and  true. 

"We,  listening,  learned  what  makes  the  might  of  words, 
Manhood  to  back  them,  constant  as  a  star ; 
His  voice  rammed  home  our  cannon,  edged  our  swords, 
And  sent  our  boarders  shouting ;   shroud  and  spar 
Heard  him  and  stiffened  ;  the  sails  heard  and  wooed 
The  winds  with  loftier  mood. 

"  In  our  dark  hour  he  manned  our  guns  again  ; 

Remanned  ourselves  from  his  own  manhood's  store ; 
Pride,  honor,  country,  throbbed  through  all  his  strain ; 
And  shall  we  praise  ?     God's  praise  was  his  before  ; 
And  on  our  futile  laurels  he  looks  down, 
Himself  our  bravest  crown." 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  229 

N.  P.  Willis,  in  his  letter  accepting  the  invita 
tion  of  the  Century  Club,  said  of  Bryant :  — 

"  His  present  eminence  among  all  parties,  as  the  un 
questioned  first  poet  of  the  country,  has  been  gained  by 
him  in  connection  with  a  career  which  has  its  daily 
trials  and  temptations,  —  a  career  which  no  one  but  an 
experienced  editor  of  a  newspaper  would  be  likely  fully 
to  appreciate.  Let  me  call  the  attention  of  the  brother 
poets  who  are  to  celebrate  his  birthday  to  the  un- 
dimmed  lustre  of  the  laurels  worn  so  long.  .  .  .  For 
him  to  have  thus  set  himself  the  task,  and  come  from  it 
as  does  Bryant,  —  the  acknowledged  most  independently 
reliable  editor,  as  well  as  the  most  irreproachable  first 
poet,  is  an  example  not  given  us  by  the  ancients." 

Stoddard's  admirable  lines  were  read  by  Bayard 
Taylor.  The  spirit  of  them  may  be  gathered  from 
the  first  seven  stanzas. 

"VATES  PATRLE." 
November  3,  1794  —  November  3,  1864. 

There  came  a  woman  in  the  night, 

When  winds  were  whist,  and  moonlight  smiled, 
Where,  in  his  mother's  arms  who  slept, 
There  lay  a  new-born  child. 

She  gazed  at  him  with  loving  looks, 

And  while- her  hand  upon  his  head 
She  laid,  in  blessing  and  in  power, 
In  slow,  deep  words  she  said : 

"  This  child  is  mine.     Of  all  my  sons 

Are  none  like  what  the  lad  shall  be,  — 
Though  these  are  wise,  and  those  are  strong, 
And  all  are  dear  to  me. 


230  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

"  Beyond  their  arts  of  peace  and  war 

The  gift  that  unto  him  belongs,  — 
To  see  my  face,  to  read  my  thoughts, 
To  learn  my  silent  songs. 

"  The  elder  sisters  of  my  race 

Shall  taunt  no  more  that  I  am  dumb  ; 
Hereafter  I  shall  sing  through  him, 
In  ages  yet  to  come  !  ' ' 

She  stooped  and  kissed  his  baby  mouth, 

Whence  came  a  breath  of  melody, 
As  from  the  closed  leaves  of  a  rose 
The  murmur  of  a  bee ! 

Thus  did  she  consecrate  the  child, 

His  more  than  mother  from  that  hour, 
Albeit  at  first  he  knew  her  not, 

Nor  guessed  his  sleeping  power. 


Edward  Everett  wrote  a  cordial  letter,  the  more 
cordial  from  the  fact  that  upon  questions  of  public 
policy  growing  out  of  the  slavery  controversy  Mr. 
Bryant  and  he  had  not  been  in  sympathy.  Among 
other  things,  he  said :  "  The  taste,  the  culture,  and 
the  patriotism  of  the  country  are,  on  this  occasion, 
in  full  sympathy  alike  with  those  who  weave  and 
with  him  who  wears  the  laurel  wreath.  Happy 
the  community  that  has  the  discernment  to  appre 
ciate  its  gifted  sons,  —  happy  the  poet,  the  artist, 
the  scholar,  who  is  permitted  to  enjoy,  in  this  way, 
a  foretaste  of  posthumous  commemoration  and 
fame !  " 

Boker  read  some  fervent  verses,  which  closed 
with  the  following  lines  :  — 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  231 

"  I  have  not  a  prayer 

That  would  not  clamber  up  the  heavenly  air, 
To  kneel  before  the  splendor  of  the  Throne, 
If  thus  another  blessing  could  be  sown 
In  the  fair  garden  of  your  blooming  days, 
Already  fragrant  with  a  nation's  praise, 
Bright  with  the  wreaths  the  total  world  hath  given 
And  warm  with  love  that 's  sanctified  by  Heaven." 

To  crown  the  notable  features  of  this  memora 
ble  ovation,  the  most  esteemed  artists  of  the  coun 
try,  among  them  Durand,  Huntington,  Kensett, 
Eastman  Johnson,  Church,  Clifford,  Gray,  Col- 
man,  Lafarge,  Leutze,  Hennessey,  J.  G.  Brown, 
Bierstadt,  McEntee,  and  Hicks,  united  in  present 
ing  Bryant  with  a  portfolio  of  pictures  from  their 
respective  easels.  The  presentation  was  made 
through  Huntington,  the  president  of  the  Acad 
emy  of  Design,  in  reply  to  whose  brief  discourse 
Mr.  Bryant,  among  other  things,  said  :  — 

"  I  shall  prize  this  gift,  therefore,  not  only  as 
a  memorial  of  the  genius  of  our  artists,  but  also 
as  a  token  of  the  good  will  of  a  class  of  men  for 
whom  I  cherish  a  particular  regard  and  esteem." 

It  is  worthy  of  being  noted  here  that  there  was 
no  journal  of  importance  in  the  land  that  did  not 
make  the  seventieth  anniversary  of  Bryant's  birth 
the  theme  of  respectful  and  more  or  less  eulogistic 
and  discriminating  comment. 

In  the  winter  of  1867,  Bryant  retired  from  the 
presidency  of  the  American  Free  Trade  League,  a 
position  which  he  had  held  from  its  origin.  In 
recognition  of  the  services  he  had  rendered  to  the 


232  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

cause,  not  merely  as  an  officer  of  the  League,  but 
more  especially  through  the  columns  of  his  journal, 
his  associates  tendered  him  a  public  dinner  on  the 
30th  of  January,  1868.  All  the  most  prominent 
free-traders  of  the  country  were  present,  or  rep 
resented  there  in  some  form,  to  testify  their  ap 
preciation  of  the  work  he  had  done  for  the  emanci 
pation  of  the  industry  and  commerce  of  the  nation. 
Bryant's  address  on  the  occasion,  of  which  we 
have  already  cited  a,  specimen, l  was  altogether 
admirable. 

In  the  spring  of  1874,  Bryant  was  elected  an 
honorary  member  of  the  Russian  Academy  of  St. 
Petersburg,  where  most  of  his  poems  had  already 
become  known  through  a  translation  made  by 
Professor  Katejeneff,  himself  a  member  of  the 
Academy. 

On  reaching  his  eightieth  birthday,  there  was  a 
spontaneous  impulse  all  over  the  country  to  cele 
brate  it.  It  was  finally  determined  to  present  him 
with  an  address,  to  be  followed,  as  soon  as  it  could 
be  prepared,  by  a  vase  commemorative  of  his  liter 
ary  career.  The  address,  which  Mr.  Godwin  tells 
us  was  signed  by  thousands  of  names,  was  pre 
sented  to  him  at  his  house  in  Sixteenth  Street  by 
Jonathan  Sturges,  one  of  the  most  estimable  and 
esteemed  citizens  of  New  York.2  In  presenting  it, 
he  said  :  — 

1  See  p.  210. 

2  Mr.  Sturges's  useful  career  was  terminated  by  death  the  fol 
lowing  week. 


PUBLIC  HONORS.    ,  233 

"  We  have  come,  dear  Mr.  Bryant,  to  congratulate 
you  upon  reaching  the  ripe  age  of  eighty  years  in  such 
vigor  of  health  and  intellect ;  to  thank  you  for  all  the 
good  work  that  you  have  done  for  your  country  and  for 
mankind ;  and  to  give  you  our  best  wishes  for  your  hap 
piness.  For  more  than  sixty  years  you  have  been  an 
author,  and  from  your  first  publication  to  your  last  you 
have  given  to  us  and  our  children  the  best  thought  and 
sentiment  in  the  purest  language  of  the  English-speak 
ing  race.  For  more  than  fifty  years  you  have  been  a 
journalist,  and  advocated  the  duties  as  well  as  the  rights 
of  men,  with  all  the  genuine  freedom,  without  any  of 
the  license,  of  our  age,  in  an  editorial  wisdom  that  has 
been  a  blessing  to  our  daughters  as  well  as  our  sons. 
You  have  been  a  good  citizen  and  true  patriot,  ready  to 
bear  your  testimony  to  the  worth  of  your  great  literary 
contemporaries,  and  steadfast  from  first  to  last  in  your 
loyalty  to  the  liberty  and  order  of  the  nation.  You 
have  stood  up  manfully  for  the  justice  and  humanity 
that  are  the  hope  of  mankind  and  the  commandment  of 
God.  We  thank  you  for  ourselves,  for  our  children,  for 
our  country,  and  for  our  race,  and  we  commend  you  to 
the  providence  and  grace  of  Him  who  has  always  been 
with  you,  and  who  will  be  with  you  to  the  end.  We 
present  to  you  this  address  of  congratulation,  with  sig 
natures  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  with  the  pro 
posal  of  a  work  of  commemorative  art  that  shall  be 
sculptured  with  ideas  and  images  from  your  poems,  and 
be  full  of  the  grateful  remembrances  and  affections  of 
the  friends  who  love  you  as  a  friend,  and  the  nation 
that  honors  you  as  the  patriarch  of  our  literature." 

Mr.  Bryant's  reply,  brief  as  it  was,  was  very 
impressive.  After  fitly  returning  thanks  for  the 
kind  words  of  the  address,  he  said  :  — 


234  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

"  I  have  lived  long,  as  it  may  seem  to  most 
people,  however  short  the  term  appears  to  me  when 
I  look  back  upon  it.  In  that  period  have  occurred 
various  most  important  changes,  both  political  and 
social,  and  on  the  whole  I  am  rejoiced  to  say  that 
they  have,  as  I  think,  improved  the  condition  of 
mankind.  The  people  of  civilized  countries  have 
become  more  enlightened,  and  enjoy  a  greater  de 
gree  of  freedom.  They  have  become  especially 
more  humane  and  sympathetic,  more  disposed  to 
alleviate  each  other's  sufferings.  This  is  the  age 
of  charity.  In  our  day,  charity  has  taken  forms 
unknown  to  former  ages,  and  occupied  itself  with 
the  cure  of  evils  which  former  generations  neg 
lected. 

"  I  remember  the  time  when  Bonaparte  filled 
the  post  of  First  Consul  in  the  French  Republic, 
for  I  began  early  to  read  the  newspapers.  I  saw 
how  that  republic  grew  into  an  empire  ;  how  that 
empire  enlarged  itself  by  successive  conquests  on 
all  sides,  and  how  the  mighty  mass,  collapsing  by 
its  own  weight,  fell  into  fragments.  I  have  seen 
from  that  time  to  this,  change  after  change  take 
place,  and  the  result  of  them  all,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
is  that  the  liberties  and  rights  of  the  humbler 
classes  have  been  more  and  more  regarded,  both  in 
framing  and  executing  the  laws.  For  the  greater 
part  of  my  own  eighty  years  it  seemed  to  me,  and 
I  think  it  seemed  to  all,  that  the  extinction  of 
slavery  was  an  event  to  be  accomplished  by  a  re 
mote  posterity.  But  all  this  time  its  end  was 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  235 

approaching,  and  suddenly  it  sank  into  a  bloody 
grave.  The  union  of  the  Italian  principalities  un 
der  one  head,  and  the  breaking  up  of  that  anomaly 
in  politics,  the  possession  of  political  power  by  a 
priesthood,  seemed,  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
fourscore  years  of  which  I  have  spoken,  an  event 
belonging  to  a  distant  and  uncertain  future,  yet 
was  it  drawing  near  by  steps  not  apparent  to  the 
common  eyes,  and  it  came  in  our  own  day.  The 
people  of  Italy  willed  it,  and  the  people  were 
obeyed. 

"  There  is  yet  a  time  which  good  men  earnestly 
hope  and  pray  for,  —  the  day  when  the  population 
of  the  civilized  world  shall  prepare  for  a  universal 
peace  by  disbanding  the  enormous  armies  which 
they  keep  in  camps  and  garrisons,  and  sending 
their  soldiery  back  to  the  fields  and  workshops, 
from  which,  if  the  people  were  wise,  their  sover 
eigns  never  should  have  withdrawn  them.  Let  us 
hope  that  this  will  be  one  of  the  next  great 
changes. 

"  Gentlemen,  again  I  thank  you  for  your  kind 
ness.  I  have  little  to  be  proud  of,  but  when  I 
look  round  upon  those  whom  this  occasion  has 
brought  together,  I  confess  that  I  am  proud  of  my 
friends." 

The  vase  was  presented  in  the  following  June. 
In  reply  to  addresses  from  Dr.  Osgood  and  from 
Mr.  Whitehouse,  the  artist,  Bryant  managed  with 
singular  grace  and  felicity  as  usual  to  keep  his 
modesty  in  the  foreground  without  the  least  ap- 


236  WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT. 

pearance  of  trying  to  make  a  virtue  of  it.  After 
thanking  everybody  entitled  to  thanks,  and  com 
mending  everything  entitled  to  commendation,  he 
said :  — 

"  And  now  a  word  concerning  the  superb  vase 
which  is  before  me,  the  work  of  artists  who  are  the 
worthy  successors  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  and  emi 
nent  in  their  department.  It  has  been  greatly  ad 
mired  by  those  who  have  seen  it.  I  remember  to 
have  read,  I  think  some  half  century  ago,  a  defi 
nition  of  the  term  genius,  — making  it  to  consist 
in  the  faculty  of  accomplishing  great  results  by 
small  means,  —  the  power,  in  short,  which  an  indi 
vidual  has  of  overcoming  difficulties  by  a  forecast 
and  vigor  not  possessed  by  others,  converting  ob 
stacles  into  instruments  of  success.  This  vase  I 
may  call  a  product  of  genius  both  in  the  design 
and  the  execution,  for  who  would  suppose  that  any 
skill  of  the  artist  could  connect  with  such  a  subject 
as  he  had  before  him  images  so  happily  conceived, 
so  full  of  expression,  and  so  well  combining  expres 
sion  with  grace  ?  My  friends,  we  authors  cultivate 
a  short-lived  reputation  ;  one  generation  of  us 
pushes  another  from  the  stage.  The  very  language 
in  which  we  write  becomes  a  jargon,  and  we  cease 
to  be  read  ;  but  a  work  like  this  is  always  beauti 
ful,  always  admired.  Age  has  no  power  over  its 
charm.  Hereafter  some  one  may  say.  '  This  beau 
tiful  vase  was  made  in  honor  of  a  certain  Amer 
ican  poet,  whose  name  it  bears,  but  whose  writings 
are  forgotten.  It  is  remarkable  that  so  much 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  237 

pains  should  have  been  taken  to  illustrate  the  life 
and  writings  of  one  whose  works  are  so  completely 
unknown  at  the  present  day.'  Thus,  gentlemen 
artists,  I  shall  be  indebted  to  you  for  causing  the 
memory  of  my  name  to  outlast  that  of  my  writ 
ings." 

This  anniversary  was  celebrated  in  Chicago 
the  same  evening  by  the  Chicago  Literary  Club. 
This  occasion  derived  a  special  interest  from  the 
presence  of  the  poet's  brothers,  Arthur  and  John 
C.  Bryant.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Robert  Collyer  presided  ; 
an  admirable  address  was  pronounced  by  the  Rev. 
Horatio  N.  Powers,  and  the  Bryant  brothers  enter 
tained  the  company  with  many  reminiscences  of 
the  youth  of  their  illustrious  brother,  from  whom 
an  amusing  letter  was  also  read.  After  thanking 
the  club  for  the  honor  they  were  doing  him,  "  to 
which,"  he  said,  "  on  looking  back  upon  my  past 
life,  I  feel  that  I  have  no  claim,  and  am  therefore 
the  more  indebted  to  their  generosity,"  he  contin 
ued  :  "  I  cannot  be  present,  but  my  good  wishes 
will  be  with  the  members.  I  hope  that  they  will 
find  the  banquet  as  pleasant,  the  conversation  as 
entertaining,  the  speeches,  if  any,  as  eloquent,  and 
the  viands  as  well  flavored,  as  if  the  members  had 
met  to  celebrate  the  birthday  of  some  better  man. 
Now  I  think  of  it,  there  must  have  been  born  on 
the  3d  of  November  a  great  many  excellent  per 
sons,  of  both  sexes,  to  whose  virtuous  lives  the 
world  is  under  great  obligations.  Will  not  my 
friends  of  the  Literary  Club  pass  to  the  credit  of 


233  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

these  persons  such  share  of  the  honors  of  their  fes 
tival  as  I  am  not  worthy  of,  and  thus  square  the 
account  ?  " 

In  the  winter  of  1874-75,  Bryant  was  invited 
with  his  family  by  Governor  Tilden  to  visit  him 
at  the  Executive  Mansion  in  Albany.  Their  ac 
quaintance  had  commenced  when  Tilden,  a  lad  in 
roundabouts,  was  brought  by  his  father  to  the  of 
fice  of  the  "  Evening  Post,"  in  the  "  heated  term  " 
of  the  United  States  Bank  controversy.  Young 
Tilden  soon  after  came  to  live  in  New  York,  where 
the  acquaintance  ripened  rapidly  into  a  friendship 
which  never  terminated.  In  the  later  years  of  his 
life,  Bryant  often  spoke  of  the  impressions  left 
upon  him  by  this  precocious  stripling,  whose  con 
siderate  manner  and  conversation  made  him  ap 
pear  but  for  his  size  and  dress  rather  the  eldest  of 
the  party.  Bryant  learned  to  attach  such  value  to 
his  judgment  that  he  rarely  took  any  important 
step,  whether  in  private  or  professional  matters, 
without  counseling  with  him. 

While  a  guest  of  the  governor,  both  branches 
of  the  legislature  tendered  Bryant  a  public  recep 
tion,  a  compliment  which  had  never  before  been 
paid  in  this  country  to  a  man  of  letters.  Lieu 
tenant-Govern  or  Dorsheimer,  the  president  of  the 
Senate,  in  presenting  him  to  that  body  said  :  — 

"  I  need  not  recall  to  you  the  career  of  your  guest. 
Every  American  knows  the  incidents  of  that  long  and 
honorable  life.  Still  less  need  I  impress  upon  you  the 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  239 

merits  of  his  writings.  You  remember  the  glowing 
words  with  which  in  his  youth  he  taught  the  love  of 
nature  and  the  Christian's  faith.  You  have  all  seen 
him  seated  among  the  lengthening  shadows  of  evening, 
and  heard  him  repeat  in  P^nglish  as  pure  as  the  Eng 
lish  of  Addison  and  Goldsmith  Homer's  undying  song. 

"I  know  that  I  utter  your  heartfelt  wishes  when  I 
express  the  hope  that  the  blessings  which  have  been  so 
abundantly  given  to  him  may  be  continued,  and  that  his 
life  may  still  be  spared  to  the  country  whose  institutions 
he  has  defended,  whose  liberties  he  has  widened,  and 
whose  glories  he  has  increased." 

In  acknowledging  the  courtesy  of  the  Senate, 
of  which  its  president  had  been  the  interpreter, 
Bryant  said  :  — 

"  You  will  pardon  me  if,  on  rising  to  say  a  few 
words  in  acknowledgment  of  the  honor  conferred 
upon  me,  I  find  myself  somewhat  embarrassed  on 
account  of  the  novelty  of  the  occasion.  There  is  a 
little  story,  a  story  some  two  thousand  years  old, 
recorded  originally  in  Greek,  I  believe,  —  for  the 
Greeks  had  their  jest-books  as  well  as  the  English, 
—  in  which  it  is  related  that  a  man  lost  his  little 
child  and  made  a  funeral.  A  considerable  con 
course  came  together  of  his  friends  and  acquaint 
ances,  and  as  he  appeared  before  them  he  made  an 
apology  for  the  smallness  of  the  infant  corpse. 
[Laughter.]  I  find  myself  in  a  similar  condition. 
I  see  before  me  the  representatives  of  the  different 
parts  of  our  great,  powerful,  and  populous  State. 
I  see  men  who  come  from  our  rich  and  beautiful 


240  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

valleys,  from  the  grand  and  picturesque  mountain 
regions  of  the  north  of  the  State,  from  the  banks 
of  our  glorious  rivers,  from  the  borders  of  our  im 
mense  lakes,  from  populous  towns  and  pleasant 
villages  ;  towns  that  are  the  seats  of  trade  and  in 
dustry,  cities  noisy  with  the  bustle  of  business  and 
commerce,  or  resounding  with  the  clash  of  looms, 
or  the  blows  of  the  ponderous  hammers  in  our 
manufacturing  establishments. 

"  You  come,  gentlemen,  as  representatives  of  the 
arts,  of  the  wealth  and  industry  of  this  great 
State.  On  my  part  I  have  nothing  to  offset 
against  this  great  array,  except  what  you  see  be 
fore  you,  and  that  is  an  object  certainly  dispro 
portionately  small  compared  with  this  imposing 
ceremony. 

lk  I  have  nothing  to  say,  therefore,  except  to  re 
turn  my  thanks  for  the  great  honor  you  have  done 
me,  and  to  add  my  wishes  for  your  future  career. 
My  wish  is  that  this  session  may  prove  honorable 
to  yourselves  and  useful  to  the  community ;  that 
it  may  be  closed  with  credit,  and  that  it  may  be 
long  remembered  for  the  service  it  has  done  and 
the  benefit  it  has  conferred  on  the  State  to  which 
you  belong." 

Bryant  was  then  presented  to  the  assembly  by 
the  Speaker,  Mr.  McGuire,  as  one  who,  "  as  poet, 
journalist,  sage,  statesman,  and  man,  had  written 
his  name  in  ineffaceable  letters  on  the  annals  of 
his  country  and  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen." 
To  this,  Bryant  replied  :  — 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  241 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Assembly  :  I  cannot  take 
to  myself  the  flattering  words  which  have  been 
uttered  by  the  presiding  officer  of  this  Assembly. 
It  would  be  the  utmost  stretch  of  self-admiration 
to  do  so.  You  will  allow  me,  therefore,  gentle 
men,  to  put  a  great  deal  of  what  has  been  said  so 
well,  or  a  great  deal  of  the  honor  of  the  reception, 
to  the  credit  of  old  age.  Old  men,  my  friends,  are 
rarities,  and  rarity,  you  know,  is  often  an  element 
of  value.  Things  that  are  not  useful  are  some 
times  rated  at  a  high  value  on  account  of  the  cir 
cumstance  that  they  are  rarely  to  be  met  with. 
If  pebbles  were  scarce  they  would  not  be  picked 
up  and  thrown  at  dogs,  but  would  be  sought  after 
and  collected  by  mineralogists,  and  deposited  in 
cabinets  to  be  gazed  at  with  admiration. 

"  I  therefore  find  it  proper,  and  no  other  than 
proper,  that  I  should  divide  a  part  of  this  honor  — 
the  greater  part  of  this  honor  —  with  those  of  my 
colleagues  who  are  remnants  of  a  generation  passed 
away  and  overlooked  in  the  flood  of  waters  in 
which  we  must  sink  and  be  submerged.  I  can 
therefore  only  return  my  sincere  thanks  for  the 
honor,  both  in  their  names  and  in  my  own,  and 
to  add  my  best  wishes  that  the  deliberations  of 
this  Assembly  may  ever  be  conclusions  just  and 
honest ;  that  no  desire  for  self-aggrandizement  or 
for  pecuniary  profit  may  ever  taint  its  reputation  ; 
and  that  the  labors  performed  in  this  session  may 
be  hereafter  recorded  as  an  honor  to  you,  and  to 
the  credit  of  the  State  which  you  represent." 


242  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  remarks,  which  were 
received  with  a  curious  enthusiasm,  the  Assembly 
adjourned  for  half  an  hour,  to  give  the  members 
of  both  houses  an  opportunity  of  being  personally 
presented  to  their  guest. 

In  the  following  year,  Tilden  was  nominated  by 
the  Democratic  party  for  the  Presidency.  It  may 
not  be  inappropriate  here  to  state  that  when  the 
propriety  of  nominating  Mr.  Tilden  for  governor 
was  under  discussion  in  1874,  Bryant  said  to  me 
that  he  hoped  Tilden  would  accept  the  nomination 
if  offered,  and  if  he  did,  that  he  should  vote  for 
him.  It  was  noticeable  through  the  canvass  which 
followed  that,  though  the  "  Evening  Post  "  sup 
ported  the  Republican  ticket,  not  a  line  appeared 
in  its  columns  calculated  to  depreciate  Tilden  in 
the  estimation  of  its  readers.  Whether  Bryant 
voted  for  Tilden  or  not  I  never  heard,  but  I  pre 
sume  he  did,  for  he  with  many  others  of  his  party 
were  opposed  to  the  election  of  President  Grant 
for  a  third  term,  and  a  vote  for  General  Dix,  who 
was  the  Republican  candidate  for  governor,  was 
generally  regarded  as  equivalent  to  an  approval  of 
the  reelection  of  Grant.1 

1  The  judgment  which  Bryant  formed  of  Grant,  a  judgment 
which  history  is  likely  to  accept,  was  thus  briefly  stated  in  a  let 
ter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  N.  Powers,  dated  July  15,  1877 :  — 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  anything  good  of  General  Grant,  and  thank 
you  for  the  anecdote  of  him  given  in  your  letter.  His  adminis 
tration  was,  in  modern  phraseology,  '  a  failure.'  I  am  willing  to 
give  him  credit  for  any  instance  of  good  sense  in  perceiving  his 
mistakes  and  frankness  in  acknowledging  them,  like  that  related 
in  your  letter.  I  was  bitterly  disappointed  in  General  Grant,  yet 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  243 

I  may  also  mention  here  that  while  Mr.  Bryant 
was  a  guest  of  Governor  Tilclen  at  Albany,  they 
were  both  present  at  a  large  dinner  party  given  to 
the  governor  on  his  birthday.  Mr.  Bryant  pro 
posed  Tilden's  health,  adding  that  as  he  had  made 
so  good  a  governor,  the  public  probably  would  not 
be  displeased  if  his  present  position  were  to  prove 
a  stepping-stone  to  one  more  elevated. 

By  the  light  of  these  facts  and  the  great  per 
sonal  esteem  which  I  knew  Bryant  entertained  for 
the  governor,  I  felt  encouraged  to  address  him  the 

following  letter :  — 

ALBANY,  August  27,  1876. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  BRYANT,  —  It  has  been  one  of  my 
dreams  for  several  months  that  your  name  should  head 
the  Tilden  Electoral  Ticket  this  fall  for  the  Presidency. 
It  has  not  been  practicable  for  me  to  see  you  since  the 
St.  Louis  Convention,  and  I  am  now  obliged  to  ask  the 
governor's  secretary,  Mr.  Newell,  to  do  me  the  favor 
to  convey  to  you  the  expression  of  my  sincere  hope  that 
if  named  as  an  elector  you  will  not  decline. 

You  need  not  be  told  how  gratifying  such  a  nomi 
nation  would  be  to  Governor  Tilden,  nor  need  I  reca 
pitulate  to  you  the  many  obvious  reasons  why  you  should 

I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  his  honesty.  He  had  in  the  beginning1  of 
his  administration,  I  think,  some  notions  of  what  he  ought  to  do, 
but  they  were  not  very  clear,  and  the  people  he  had  about  him, 
and  who  were  not  chosen  as  his  associate,  with  the  sagacity  which 
I  expected,  contrived  to  confuse  them  still  farther,  and  at  last  he 
gave  us  an  administration  with  all  the  faults  of  the  worst  which 
had  preceded  it.  But  his  part  in  the  history  of  his  country  is  at 
an  end,  and  I  suppose  that  the  merits  of  his  military  career  will 
be  hereafter  more  looked  at  than  the  errors  of  his  political  ad 
ministration.'  ' 


244  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

desire  to  oblige  his  friends,  a  large  proportion  of  whom 
are  your  pupils,  with  the  use  of  your  name. 

The  course  of  the  "  Evening  Post,"  of  course,  some 
what  disappoints  me  and  others  who  like  me  embarked 
in  this  effort  at  administrative  reform  for  no  mere  per 
sonal  ends.  To  all  such  it  would  be  an  unspeakable 
satisfaction  to  know  that  you  would  not  decline  to  charge 
yourself  with  the  duty  of  taking  their  vote  to  Washing 
ton  and  depositing  it  for  the  candidates  who  in  their 
judgment  represent  the  best  hope  of  the  country. 

Let  me  pray  that  if  the  convention  which  is  to  meet  on 
Wednesday  next  should  desire,  you  will  not  pain  your 
friends  by  refusing  them  and  your  country  this  service. 

I  remain  as  ever,  my  dear  Mr.  Bryant, 

Very  sincerely  yours,  JOHN  BIGELOW. 

To   this  appeal  I  received  the  following  disap 
pointing  though  not  altogether  unexpected  reply  : 
"  CUMMINGTON,  MASS.,  August  28,  1878. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  BIGELOW,  —  Your  letter  of  yes 
terday  which  has  just  been  put  into  my  hands  was 
an  utter  surprise  to  me.  There  are  many  reasons 
why  I  must  decline  allowing  my  name  to  be  placed 
on  the  Tilden  Electoral  Ticket,  some  of  which  you 
will,  I  think,  understand  without  my  referring  to 
them.  Others  relate  to  the  character  and  composi 
tion  of  the  two  political  parties  in  the  field,  and  to 
the  letters  of  acceptance  written  by  the  two  candi 
dates  for  the  Presidency.  Such  as  they  are,  they 
constrain  me  with  a  force  which  I  cannot  resist  to 
decline  acting  on  the  suggestions  made  in  your  let 
ter.  It  gives  me  great  pain  to  refuse  anything  to 
the  friends  of  a  man  whom  I  esteem  and  honor  as 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  245 

I  do  Mr.  Tilden,  whom  I  know  to  be  so  highly  ac 
complished  for  the  most  eminent  political  stations, 
whose  opinions  of  the  proper  province  and  objects 
of  legislation  and  government  have  been  formed  in 
the  same  school  as  my  own,  and  who,  so  far  as  he  is 
not  obstructed  by  the  party  to  which  he  belongs, 
will,  I  am  sure,  act  not  only  with  ability  and  integ 
rity,  but  with  wisdom,  in  any  post  to  which  the 
voice  of  his  countrymen  may  call  him. 
44  I  am,  dear  sir, 

Faithfully  yours, 

W.  C.  BRYANT." 

HON.  JOHN  BIGELOW. 

Though  I  was  satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that 
Bryant  regarded  Tilden  as  in  every  respect  much 
the  fitter  of  the  two  candidates  for  the  Presidency, 
I  did  not  underestimate  the  difficulties  which  he 
would  encounter  in  publicly  associating  himself 
with  the  fortunes  of  a  candidate  which  the  journal 
he  was  supposed  to,  but  in  fact  did  not  then,  con 
trol  1  would  be  doing  its  utmost  to  defeat.  When 
I  wrote  to  him,  I  was  not  aware  that  a  few  days 
before  the  receipt  of  my  letter  the  following  corre 
spondence  had  passed  between  him  and  a  Republi 
can  friend,  which  must  have  made  it  practically 
impossible  for  him  to  entertain  my  proposal,  even 
though,  but  for  such  correspondence,  he  might  have 
been  not  indisposed  to  embrace  it. 

1  The  Evening  Post  had,  a  few  years  before,  been  converted 
into  a  stock  company,  of  which  Bryant  owned  only  half,  but  not 
a  majority,  of  the  shares. 


246  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

NEW  YORK,  August  23,  1876. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  BRYANT,  —  I  notice  by  the  press 
that  you  still  linger  at  Cummington,  where  I  hope  that 
you  are  enjoying  the  nature  you  so  well  depict,  and 
take  all  the  comfort  you  so  well  deserve.  In  a  casual 
conversation  with  Mr.  Henderson  l  a  few  days  since,  I 
mentioned  the  impression  that  prevailed  that  he  was 
now  the  editor  in  fact,  as  his  son-in-law,  Sperry,  was 
managing  editor  of  the  u  Post."  He  said  that  nothing 
could  be  more  incorrect,  that  Mr.  Bryant  was  the  re 
sponsible  editor,  and  inspired  as  he  controlled  the  polit 
ical  course.  I  suppose  this  impression,  which  prevails 
to  a  considerable  extent,  arises  from  the  fact  of  Mr. 
Henderson's  supposed  controlling  influence  in  the  stock 
of  the  "  Post,"  as  well  as  your  known  friendship  for 
Governor  Tilden,  for  whose  election  both  Mr.  Godwin 
and  Bigelow  are  lending  their  influence.  I  do  not  know 
that  you  care  about  all  this,  but  there  are  a  good  many 
intelligent  and  independent  voters  who  depend  some 
what  on  the  coming  of  the  "  Post  "  to  lead  them  to  act 
wisely  at  the  coming  election,  but  they  want  to  know  if 
Mr.  Bryant  and  the  "  Post "  are  still  as  of  yore  one  and 
the  same.  Mr.  Henderson  knows  of  my  writing  you 
this  letter,  saying  you  would  confirm  what  he  said  to 
me,  which  I  have  quoted  to  you. 

Faithfully  yours,  J.  C.  DERBY. 

"CUMMINGTON,  MASS.,  August  28,  1876. 

"  To  J.  C.  DERBY,  ESQ. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  do  not  wonder,  that  many 
thoughtful  persons  are  undecided  as  to  which 

1  Isaac  Henderson,  a  stockholder  and  the  business  manager  of 
the  Evening  Post. 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  247 

candidate  they  shall  support  in  the  coming  elec 
tion  of  President.  Both  parties  aim  at  the  same 
ends.  Which  has  the  best  candidate  or  which 
party  can  be  most  depended  upon  to  adopt  and 
enforce  the  necessary  measures  are  the  questions 
which  people  are  asking.  If  you  look  only  to  the 
candidate,  Mr.  Tilden  is  the  best,  the  most  of  a 
statesman,  the  soundest  and  most  enlarged  in 
opinion,  and,  I  think,  of  the  firmest  character.  If 
you  look  at  the  parties  by  which  the  candidates 
are  brought  forward,  the  Republican  party  is  the 
most  to  be  relied  on  —  although  both  parties, 
judged  by  the  proceedings  of  their  representatives 
in  Congress,  are  greatly  degenerate,  and  whichever 
of  them  obtain  the  ascendancy,  those  who  look  for 
a  complete  radical,  thorough  reform  will  be  disap 
pointed.  Some  changes  will  doubtless  be  made 
for  the  better,  but  those  who  expect  all  abuses  in 
the  administration  of  the  government  to  be  done 
away  will  find  their  mistake..  As  to  the  hard 
money  question,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  safest 
with  the  Republicans.  The  Democratic  party  of 
the  West  is  deeply  infected  with  the  inflation 
heresy.  It  is  now  smothered  temporarily,  but  as 
soon  as  the  election  is  over  it  will  break  out  again 
with  violence.  The  Republican  party  is  most  free 
from  its  influence.  As  to  the  civil  service  reform, 
which  both  parties  profess  to  desire,  Mr.  Tilden 
has  not  pledged  himself  to  abstain  from  the  vi 
cious  practice  of  turning  out  indiscriminately  all 
whom  he  shall  find  in  office  in  case  he  is  elected. 


248  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

He  only  promises  to  look  carefully  into  their  char 
acters  and  qualifications.  I  infer  that  all  whom 
he  finds  in  office  must  go  out.  Who  will  answer 
for  him  that  all  whom  he  appoints  will  be  worthy 
of  their  places  ?  Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
will  flock  to  Washington  for  these  places,  all  of 
them  good  4  Democrats,'  and  it  will  be  absolutely 
astonishing  if  a  large  number  of  those  who  are 
appointed  do  not  turn  out  to  be  rogues.  Hayes, 
who  only  promises  to  send  adrift  the  unworthy, 
will  have  an  easier  task,  and  leisure  to  exercise  a 
just  discrimination.  As  to  the  revenue  laws,  which 
are  without  doubt  one  cause  of  the  hard  times, 
neither  Mr.  Tilden  nor  Mr.  Hayes  has  spoken  of 
any  reform  to  be  made.  Perhaps  the  chance  of 
an  enlightened  revision  of  these  laws  is  best  in 
case  the  Democrats  obtain  the  ascendancy,  but  how 
slight  the  prospect  of  such  a  revision  is  I  leave  to 
be  inferred  from  the  late  proceedings  of  the  Demo 
cratic  House  of  Representatives.  You  see,  there 
fore,  that  when  we  come  to  compare  the  prospect 
of  reform  under  one  of  the  two  parties  with  that 
under  the  other,  a  man  who  is  slow  in  forming 
conclusions  might  be  forgiven  for  hesitating.  Yet 
the  greater  number  of  those  dissatisfied  Republi 
cans  who  came  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Conference, 
including  most  of  the  wisest  heads  among  them, 
have  acquiesced  in  the  nomination  of  Hayes.  The 
Cincinnati  Convention  did  riot  give  them  all  they 
wanted,  but  came  so  near  to  it  that  they  thought 
it  the  wisest  course  to  be  content,  and  not  to  sepa- 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  249 

rate  from  the  party  with  which  they  had  hitherto 
acted.  I  thought  the  same  thing  in  regard  to  the 
'  Evening  Post,'  namely,  that  it  would  not  be 
well  to  detach  itself  from  the  party  which  had  car 
ried  the  country  through  the  civil  war  until  it  was 
forced  to  do  so  by  the  signs  of  a  hopeless  degen 
eracy.  There  may  have  been  some  things  in  the 
4  Evening  Post '  which  I  have  not  agreed  with  al 
together,  being  at  so  great  a  distance  from  it  that 
I  could  not  be  expected  to  influence  it  in  every 
thing,  but,  in  the  main,  it  has  treated  Mr.  Tilden 
with  marked  respect. 

Yours  truly,  W.  C.  BRYANT/' 

A  friend  of  Tilden's  to  whom  the  last  letter  was 
shown  called  Bryant's  attention  to  the  fact  that 
the  most  conspicuous,  and  the  only  conspicuous, 
case  of  civil  service  reform  which  had  been  wit 
nessed  in  the  whole  country  up  to  that  time  had 
occurred  under  Tilden's  administration,  and  right 
under  his  eyes  at  Albany  ;  that  his  Secretary  of 
State  had  selected  as  Superintendent  of  the  Census 
a  Republican,1  upon  the  advice  of  the  Hon.  Fran 
cis  A.  Walker,  Superintendent  of  the  Federal 
Censuses  of  1870  and  1880,  also  a  Republican ; 
that  all  his  clerks,  at  one  time  over  eighty  in  num 
ber,  were  selected  by  a  competitive  examination  in 
which  this  Republican  superintendent  was  the  sole 
arbiter,  and  that  three  fourths  at  least  of  all  the 
clerks  consisted  of  Republicans. 

1  The  late  C.  W.  Seaton,  who  was  afterwards  associated  with 
Francis  A.  Walker  in  digesting  the  census  of  1880,  and  subse- 
qiiently  succeeded  him  as  superintendent. 


250  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

It  was  subsequent  to,  and  doubtless  in  conse 
quence  of,  this  information  that  Bryant  supple 
mented  his  first  letter  to  Derby  with  the  follow- 
ing:  — 

"  CUMMINGTON,  MASS.,  September  4,  1876. 

"  DEAR  MR.  DERBY,  —  I  did  not  write  my  pre 
vious  letter  for  publication,  and  beg  that  you  will 
not  let  the  press  get  hold  of  it.  I  have  a  fear  that 
I  may  have  done  injustice  to  Mr.  Tilden  in  regard 
to  the  reformation  of  the  civil  service.  If  so,  his 
letter  of  acceptance  was  the  cause.  I  looked  it 
over  for  some  condemnation  of  the  bad  practice, 
so  long  followed,  of  turning  out  of  office  all  the 
men  of  the  beaten  party  after  an  election.  I  found 
no  such  condemnation,  and  inferred  that  he  meant 
to  leave  himself  at  liberty  to  follow  the  practice. 
I  have  since  learned  that  he  had  in  many  instances 
appointed  men  of  the  Republican  party  to  office  in 
his  gift,  solely  on  account  of  their  competency  and 
character.  This  was  nobly  done,  but  he  will  have 
great  difficulty  in  resisting  the  pressure  which 
will  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  in  order  to  force 
him  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  the  public  offices 
and  fill  them  with  men  of  his  own  party.  I  am 
willing,  however,  to  take  this  as  a  proof  of  Mr. 
Tilden's  present  disposition,  and  hope  that  it  will 
not  be  overcome  by  the  force  which  will  assuredly 
be  brought  against  it. 

Yours  very  truly,  W.  C.  BRYANT." 

Mr.  Godwin  tells  us  "  Mr.  Bryant  voted  at  the 
election  in  November,  but  how  he  voted  no  one  was 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  251 

ever  able  to  learn.  Members  of  each  of  the  lead 
ing  parties  claimed  his  name,  but  when  himself 
questioned  on  the  subject,  he  smiled,  and  said  that 
the  ballot  was  a  secret  institution." 

Mr.  Godwin  is  correct  in  stating  that  Bryant 
voted  at  the  election  in  November,  but  not  quite 
correct  in  implying  that  he  voted  for  either  Presi 
dential  candidate.  He  did  not  vote  the  Electoral 
ticket  at  all.  If  I  had  not  this  assurance  upon 
perfectly  competent  authority,  I  think  it  could  be 
fairly  inferred  from  the  situation.  Had  Bryant 
voted  for  Hayes,  the  candidate  of  his  party,  there 
would  have  been  no  occasion  to  make  a  mystery  of 
it.  Neither  would  he  ever  have  been  guilty  of  any 
thing  so  much  like  duplicity  as  to  vote  secretly  for 
Tilden,  while  before  the  world  in  his  paper  he  was 
understood  to  be  recommending  Hayes  to  the  sup 
port  of  his  readers.  Had  he  voted  for  Tilden,  the 
readers  of  the  "  Evening  Post,"  at  least,  were  cer 
tain  to  be  the  first  to  be  taken  into  his  confidence. 
He  preferred  Tilden  to  Hayes  as  a  President,  but 
the  Republican  to  the  Democratic  as  a  party. 

Only  a  few  days  after  the  election,  he  wrote  to  a 
lady  in  Scotland  :  — 

"  This  is  Evacuation  Day,  the  day  when  in  the 
Revolutionary  War  we  saw  the  last  of  the  red- 
coated  soldiery.  But  we  celebrate  it  no  longer ;  we 
have  other  things  to  think  of  now  ;  we  have  chosen 
a  President,  and  are  trying  to  find  out  who  it  is. 
We  shall  be  gainers  at  any  rate.  Let  who  will  be 
awarded  the  Presidency,  his  administration  is  sure 


252  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

to  be  better  than  the  present  one.  I  have  never 
before  felt  so  little  interest  in  a  contest  for  the 
Presidency.  Both  parties  profess  to  have  the  same 
ends  in  view ;  both  have  put  up  able  and  well-in 
tentioned  men  for  candidates.  Tilden  is  the  abler 
and  the  more  thoroughly  a  statesman,  and  I  think 
the  more  persistent  of  the  two  in  any  course  he  has 
marked  out  for  himself  ;  but  his  party  has  suffered 
in  character  by  the  late  rebellion,  which  forced 
many  of  the  best  people  to  join  the  Republican 
party." 

In  November,  1877,  the  Goethe  Club  gave  Bryant 
a  reception,  at  which  the  Rev.  W.  R.  Alger  deliv 
ered  an  elaborate  address.  On  closing,  he  said  :  — 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Bryant,  we  thank  you  for  consenting 
to  allow  us  this  pleasant  opportunity  for  greeting  and 
meeting  you,  and  expressing  something  of  our  feeling 
towards  you.  May  the  guardian  fellowship  of  God  sur 
round  you  and  crown  you  with  every  gracious  gift  until 
the  end." 

The  length  of  the  addresses  which  were  made  at 

o 

and  about  him  were  a  little  embarrassing  to  Mr. 
Bryant,  who  was  made  by  the  force  of  circum 
stances  an  assenting  party  to  a  sort  of  conspiracy 
to  praise  him ;  but  he  disengaged  his  responsibil 
ity  and  modesty  together  by  some  felicitous  banter 
about  old  age,  behind  which  he  was  fond  of  tak 
ing  refuge,  and  which  proved  in  the  later  years  of 
his  life  an  inexhaustible  fountain  of  amusement 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  253 


as  well  as  o£  excuses.  After  thanking  Mr.  Alger 
and  Dr.  Ruppaner,  the  president  of  the  Club,  for 
the  compliments  they  had  paid  him,  but  which  he 
insisted  that  he  could  not  accept  as  his  due,  he 
went  on  :  — 

"  You  will  therefore  allow  me  to  ascribe  the 
kindness  which  has  been  shown  me  this  evening  to 
a  cause  which  you  will  admit  to  be  sufficiently  ob 
vious,  namely,  to  the  long  life  which  I  have  led, 
—  the  late  old  age  which  I  have  reached,  —  an  ex 
istence  prolonged  considerably  beyond  the  common 
lot.  One  who  has  passed  rather  inoffensively  be 
yond  the  milestones  which  mark  the  stages  of  life 
up  tc-  fourscore  is  looked  upon  by  the  rest  of  man 
kind  with  a  certain  compassionate  feeling.  He 
cannot  do  much  more  mischief,  they  naturally  and 
justly  think,  and  therefore  may  safely  be  praised. 
His  further  stay  upon  the  earth  is  necessarily  short, 
and  it  is  therefore  a  charitable  thing  to  make  that 
short  stay  pleasant.  Beside,  he  has  become,  by  rea 
son  of  his  very  few  coevals,  a  sort  of  curiosity,  —  a 
rare  instance,  —  and  rarity  often  gives  value  and 
price  to  things  which  are  in  themselves  intrinsically 
worthless. 

"  Let  me  pursue  this  thought  a  little  further. 
There  have  been  various  attempts  to  give  a  concise 
definition  of  the  term  '  man,'  founded  on  some  pe 
culiarity  which  distinguishes  the  human  race  from 
all  other  animals,  our  fellow-inhabitants,  of  this 
planet.  Some  have  defined  man  as  a  talking  animal, 
notwithstanding  the  instance  of  the  parrot,  a  bird 


254  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

which  sometimes  talks  as  well  as  certain  members 
of  Congress  ;  some  as  a  laughing  animal,  although 
there  is  a  laughing  hyena  ;  and  some  as  a  cooking 
animal,  the  only  animal  that  roasts  chestnuts, 
overlooking  the  ancient  tradition  of  the  monkey 
who  used  the  paws* of  the  cat  to  draw  the  nuts  from 
the  fire.  I  will  venture  to  give  another  definition, 
to  which,  I  think,  no  objection  can  well  be  made. 
I  would  define  man  as  the  animal  that  delights  in 

o 

antiquities.  No  other  creature  gathers  up  the  rel 
ics  of  past  years  and  deposits  them  in  museums 
and  guards  them  with  care  and  points  them  out  to 
the  wonder  of  others.  It  is  only  man  who  digs 
among  the  ruins  of  cities  destroyed  long  ago,  in 
order  to  unearth  the  domestic  implements  and  per 
sonal  adornments  of  the  human  race  when  it  was 
yet  in  its  infancy,  as  Schliemann  and  others  are 
doing,  thinking  themselves  fortunate  in  proportion 
to  the  rudeness  and  clumsiness,  in  other  words  the 
antiquity,  of  these  objects.  If  we  were  to  hear  of 
monkeys  turning  up  the  earth  among  old  tombs  in 
search  of  the  earrings  and  necklaces  of  those  who 
lived  in  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war,  we  should  be 
struck  with  amazement,  and  word  would  at  once  be 
sent  to  Darwin  by  his  disciples  that  here  was  a 
new  proof  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution. 

"  But  older  than  Priam  and  Agamemnon  are  the 
remains  of  the  lake  dwellers  of  a  distant  period  of 
the  world's  history,  when  men  lived  in  habitations 
built  on  floats  over  the  water,  and  used  only  im 
plements  of  stone,  the  use  of  metals  not  being  yet 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  255 

discovered.  Stone  axes  and  stone  spear-heads  have 
been  fished  up  from  the  mud  of  these  waters,  the 
tokens  of  a  time  when  warriors  hammered  each 
other  to  death  with  rude  weapons  of  flint  and 
granite.  These  have  been  diligently  collected  and 
daintily  handled  and  laid  up  in  cabinets  of  curios 
ities,  and  gazed  at  and  wondered  at  and  made 
the  subject  of  books  and  elaborate  treatises,  and 
lighter  magazine  articles.  All  their  value  consists 
in  the  many  years  which  have  elapsed  since  they 
were  shaped  by  the  workmen  of  a  rude  and  simple 
age. 

"  Offer  one  of  these  stone  axes  to  a  woodman  to 
be  used  in  his  vocation,  and  he  would  reject  it  with 
scorn.  He  might  by  great  efforts  bruise  down  a 
tree  with  it,  but  he  could  not  be  said  to  cut  it 
down.  Offer  it  to  a  butcher  that  he  may  use  it  in 
felling  an  ox,  and  he  would  laugh  at  the  clumsy 
implement,  and  demand  an  axe  of  metal.  Rejected 
as  it  would  be  for  lack  of  utility  in  ministering  to 
our  necessities  or  our  comforts,  it  is  yet  made 
much  of ;  it  is  written  about  and  talked  about,  and 
men  see  in  it  a  whole  chapter  of  the  history  of 
mankind. 

"  I  have  thus  shown  how  natural  it  is  that  those 
who  are  left  to  grow  very  old  become  by  that  cir 
cumstance  alone  the  objects  of  kind  attention.  For 
such  testimonials  of  this  kindness  as  I  have  re 
ceived  this  evening  I  return,  along  with  my  ac 
knowledgments,  my  good  wishes  also.  May  you 
all  who  hear  me  yet  become  antiquities,  not  after 


256  WILLIAM    CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

the  fashion  of  the  stone  axes  which  I  have  de 
scribed,  but  after  the  manner  of  the  pole  star, 
which,  century  after  century,  has  guided  by  its  use 
ful  light  the  navigator  on  the  sea  and  the  wanderer 
on  the  land.  May  you  become  antiquities  like  the 
venerable  mountains,  which  attract  the  clouds  and 
gather  the  rains  into  springs  and  rivulets,  and  send 
them  down  to  give  life  and  refreshment  to  the 
fields  below.  May  you  become  antiquities  like  the 
blessed  and  ancient  sun,  which  ripens  the  harvests 
of  the  earth  for  successive  generations  of  mankind, 
and  at  the  end  of  every  day  leaves  in  the  western 
sky  a  glorious  memory  of  his  genial  brightness." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  this  address 
was  followed  with  great  applause,  the  greater  for 
the  skill  with  which  Bryant  saved  his  personal  dig 
nity  without  the  slightest  sacrifice  of  his  imper 
turbable  good  nature. 

It  is  not  only  on  these  exceptional  occasions  to 
which  we  have  referred  that  the  evidences  of  re 
spect,  admiration,  and  reverence  for  Bryant  as  a 
poet,  as  a  journalist,  and  as  a  man  are  to  be 
sought ;  they  welled  up  more  or  less  profusely 
from  every  fountain  of  public  opinion  throughout 
the  country.  He  was  an  honorary  member  of 
pretty  much  every  Historical,  Philosophical,  Anti 
quarian,  and  Statistical  society  ;  of  every  Academy 
of  Artists  and  Men  of  Letters,  and  of  every  col 
lege  society  in  the  United  States  of  sufficient  con 
sideration  to  feel  at  liberty  to  proffer  the  compli 
ment. 


PUBLIC  HONORS.  257 

The  homage  that  is  paid  to  a  public  man  who 
has  offices  and  honors  to  bestow,  whose  smile  con 
fers  credit  and  influence,  and  whose  frown  may 
threaten  disaster,  is  always  more  or  less  tainted 
with  the  suspicion  that  it  is  to  the  functionary  and 
not  to  the  man  it  is  paid.  So  the  homage  that  is 
paid  to  the  dead  is  often  much  more  liberal  than 
to  the  living,  from  the  fact  that  the  object  of  it  is 
no  longer  in  any  one's  way,  and  praising  him  inter 
feres  with  no  one's  advancement,  and  affords  an 
eligible  opportunity  of  earning  a  reputation  for 
magnanimity  at  a  trifling  cost. 

When  it  is  considered  that  Bryant  never  held 
any  public  office,  that  he  never  controlled  any  pat 
ronage,  that  he  was  not  accustomed  to  borrow  from 
occasions  any  factitious  influence,  it  must,  I  think, 
be  conceded  that  the  respect  and  reverence  with 
which  he  inspired  his  countrymen,  and  the  hom 
age  which  they  so  freely  and  abundantly  accorded 
to  him  during  his  lifetime,  are  among  the  things 
in  their  history  which  do  them  infinite  honor,  and 
which  testify  most  faithfully  to  their  correct  ap 
preciation  of  what  is  good  and  great  in  human 
character. 


CHAPTER   XL 

PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS. 

ONE  of  Milton's  contemporaries  tells  us  "  that 
the  poet's  vein  never  happily  flowed  but  from  the 
autumnal  equinox  to  the  vernal ;  and  that  what 
ever  he  attempted  at  other  times  was  never  to  his 
satisfaction,  though  he  courted  his  fancy  never  so 
much." 

What  is  here  said  of  Milton  might  be  said  in  a 
way,  with  more  or  less  propriety,  of  most  eminent 
writers,  but  not  of  Bryant.  As  has  been  already 
observed  in  these  pages,  he  was  not  a  man  of 
moods  and  tenses.  He  never  seemed  one  day  less 
ready  than  another  for  any  kind  of  intellectual 
exertion.  Till  years  began  to  tell  upon  his 
nervous  energy,  which  was  not  until  very  late  in 
life,  he  seemed  always  ready  to  do  his  best  of  any 
kind  of  work.  This  is  so  rare  a  quality  that  it 
can  only  be  explained  by  the  pains  he  took  for  the 
conservation  of  his  health  and  the  religious  con 
trol  which  he  maintained  over  all  his  appetites. 
Like  St.  Paul,  he  treated  his  body  as  God's  tem 
ple,  and,  to  an  almost  inconceivable  extent,  re 
sisted  every  inclination  tending  to  unfit  it  for  its 
holy  office.  He  was  born  with  a  very  delicate  con- 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  259 

stitution.     One  who  was  a  student  in  Dr.  Bryant's 
office  tells  us,  — 

"The  poet  was  puny  and  very  delicate,  and  of  a 
painfully  delicate  nervous  temperament.  There  seemed 
little  promise  that  he  would  survive  the  casualties  of 
early  childhood.  In  after  years,  when  he  had  become 
famous,  those  who  had  been  medical  students  with  his 
father  when  he  was  struggling  for  existence  with  the 
odds  very  much  against  him  delighted  to  tell  of  the 
cold  baths  they  were  ordered  to  give  the  infant  poet  in 
a  spring  near  the  house  early  mornings  of  the  summer 
months,  continuing  the  treatment,  in  spite  of -the  out 
cries  and  protestations  of  their  patient,  so  late  into  the 
autumn  as  sometimes  to  break  the  ice  that  skimmed  the 
surface."  l 

Shortly  after  he  settled  as  a  lawyer  at  Great 
Barrington,  he  represented  himself  to  a  correspond 
ent  as  "  wasted  to  a  shadow  by  a  complaint  of  the 
lungs."  This  weakness  of  the  chest,  to  which  both 
his  father  and  sister  had  succumbed,  led  him  soon 
after  his  arrival  in  New  York  to  discontinue  the 
use  of  tea,  coffee,  spices,  and  all  stimulating  condi 
ments  ;  to  eat  sparingly  of  meat,  and  to  take  a  great 
deal  of  bodily  exercise. 

It  is  easy  to  persuade  ourselves  that  he  was 
largely  indebted  for  his  ability  to  contend  success 
fully  with  morbid  hereditary  tendencies,  and  for 
his  extraordinary  vigor  and  longevity,  to  the  atten 
tion  he  was  thus  compelled  to  give  to  the  care  of 
his  health  in  early  life.  It  is  an  extraordinary  fact 

1  Dawes's  Centennial  Address  at  Cummington,  June  26,  1879. 


260  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

that,  starting  life  with  such  a  limited  capital  of 
health,  he  lived  to  be  an  octogenarian  without  ever 
having  been  confined  to  his  bed  from  illness,  except 
his  last,  within  the  recollection  of  any  of  his  off 
spring,  and  with  all  his  bodily  senses  in  apparently 
unimpaired  perfection.  He  never  used  spectacles, 
and  his  hearing  to  the  last  seemed  perfect. 

Bryant  has  happily  left  us  a  brief  account  of  his 
sanitary  discipline  in  a  letter  to  an  acquaintance 
who  had  asked  of  him  the  secret  of  his  uninter 
rupted  health.  If  the  value  of  his  example  as  set 
forth  in  this  letter  to  Joseph  H.  Richards,  Esq., 
could  be  properly  impressed  upon  the  youth  of  our 
country,  it  would  probably  prevent  far  more  dis 
ease  than  all  the  medical  schools  of  the  land  will 
ever  supply  the  skill  to  cure. 

"NEW  YORK,  March  30fA. 

...  "I  rise  early,  at  this  time  of  the  year 
about  half  past  five ;  in  summer,  half  an  hour  or 
even  an  hour  earlier.  Immediately,  with  very  little 
encumbrance  of  clothing,  I  begin  a  series  of  exer 
cises,  for  the  most  part  designed  to  expand  the 
chest,  and  at  the  same  time  call  into  action  all  the 
muscles  and  articulations  of  the  body.  These  are 
performed  with  dumb  -  bells,  —  the  very  lightest, 
covered  with  flannel,  —  with  a  pole,  a  horizontal 
bar,  and  a  light  chair  swung  round  iny  head. 
After  a  full  hour,  and  sometimes  more,  passed  in 
this  manner,  I  bathe  from  head  to  foot.  When  at 
my  place  in  the  country,  I  sometimes  shorten  my 
exercises  in  the  chamber,  and,  going  out,  occupy 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          261 

myself  in  some  work  which  requires  brisk  mo 
tion.  After  my  bath,  if  breakfast  be  not  ready, 
I  sit  down  to  my  studies  till  I  am  called.  My 
breakfast  is  a  simple  one  —  hominy  and  milk,  or, 
in  place  of  hominy,  brown  bread,  or  oatmeal,  or 
wheaten  grits,  and,  in  the  season,  baked  sweet 
apples.  Buckwheat  cakes  I  do  not  decline,  nor  any 
other  article  of  vegetable  food,  but  animal  food  I 
never  take  at  breakfast.  Tea  and  coffee  I  never 
touch  at  any  time ;  sometimes  I  take  a  cup  of 
chocolate,  which  has  no  narcotic  effect,  and  agrees 
with  me  very  well.  At  breakfast  I  often  take 
fruit,  either  in  its  natural  state  or  freshly  stewed. 

"After  breakfast  I  occupy  myself  for  a  while 
with  my  studies ;  and  when  in  town,  I  walk  down 
to  the  office  of  the  '  Evening  Post,'  nearly  three 
miles  distant,  and  after  about  three  hours  return, 
always  walking,  whatever  be  the  weather  or  the 
state  of  the  streets.  In  the  country  I  am  engaged 
in  my  literary  tasks  till  a  feeling  of  weariness 
drives  me  out  into  the  open  air,  and  I  go  upon  my 
farm  or  into  the  garden  and  prune  the  fruit  trees, 
or  perform  some  other  work  about  them  which  they 
need,  and  then  go  back  to  my  books.  I  do  not 
often  drive  out,  preferring  to  walk.  In  the  coun 
try  I  dine  early,  and  it  is  only  at  that  meal  that  I 
take  either  meat  or  fish,  and  of  these  but  a  mod 
erate  quantity,  making  my  dinner  mostly  of  vege 
tables.  At  the  meal  which  is  called  tea  I  take 
only  a  little  bread  and  butter  with  fruit,  if  it  be  on 
the  table.  In  town,  where  I  dine  later,  I  make 


262  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

but  two  meals  a  day.  Fruit  makes  a  considerable 
part  of  my  diet,  and  I  eat  it  at  almost  any  hour  of 
the  day  without  inconvenience.  My  drink  is  water, 
yet  I  sometimes,  though  rarely,  take  a  glass  of 
wine.  I  am  a  natural  temperance  man,  finding 
myself  rather  confused  than  exhilarated  by  wine. 
I  never  meddle  with  tobacco,  except  to  quarrel  with 
its  use. 

"  That  I  may  rise  early  I,  of  course,  go  to  bed 
early :  in  town  as  early  as  ten ;  in  the  country 
somewhat  earlier.  For  many  years  I  have  avoided 
in  the  evening  every  kind  of  literary  occupation 
which  tasks  the  faculties,  such  as  composition,  even 
to  the  writing  of  letters,  for  the  reason  that  it 
excites  the  nervous  system  and  prevents  sound 
sleep.  My  brother  told  me  not  long  since  that  he 
had  seen  in  a  Chicago  newspaper,  and  several 
other  Western  journals,  a  paragraph  in  which  it 
was  said  that  I  am  in  the  habit  of  taking  quinine 
as  a  s£imulant,  that  I  have  depended  on  the  excite 
ment  it  produces  in  writing  my  verses,  and  that  in 
consequence  of  using  it  in  that  way  I  have  become 
as  deaf  as  a  post.  As  to  my  deafness,  you  know 
that  to  be  false ;  and  the  rest  of  the  story  is 
equally  so.  I  abominate  drugs  and  narcotics,  and 
have  always  carefully  avoided  anything  which  spurs 
nature  to  exertions  which  it  would  not  otherwise 
make.  Even  with  my  food  I  do  not  take  the  usual 
condiments,  such  as  pepper  and  the  like." 

To  the  habits  of  life  outlined  in  this  letter, 
Bryant  faithfully  adhered  to  the  end  of  his  days. 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  263 

Not  many  weeks  before  his  death,  and  when  re 
covering  from  a  slight  indisposition  which  he  had 
been  describing  to  me  (he  was  then  approaching 
his  eighty -fourth  year),  I  said,  "  I  presume  you 
have  reduced  your  allowance  of  morning  gymnas 
tics."  "  Not  the  width  of  your  thumb  nail,"  was 
his  prompt  reply.  "  What,"  said  I,  "  do  you  man 
age  still  '  to  put  in  '  your  hour  and  a  half  every 
morning  ?  "  "  Yes,"  he  replied,  *'  and  sometimes 
more  ;  frequently  more."  This  I  have  always  re 
garded  as  a  signal  triumph  of  character.  As  the 
glaciers  testify  to  the  incalculable  power  of  the  sun 
which  piles  them  up  on  the  peaks  of  the  loftiest 
mountains,  so  this  resolute  and  conscientious  pros 
ecution  of  a  toil  which  directly  furthered  no  per 
sonal  or  worldly  end,  which  added  nothing  of  value 
to  his  stock  of  knowledge,  which  gratified  neither 
his  own  nor  any  other  person's  vanity  or  ambition, 
which  deprived  him  of  no  trifling  proportion  of 
the  best  working  hours  of  his  day,  testified  with 
unimpeachable  authority  to  the  heroic  moral  forces 
of  which  his  will,  his  tastes,  his  ambition,  were 
always  the  patient  and  faithful  servants. 

Soon  after  his  settlement  in  New  York,  his  at 
tention  was  directed  to  the  Hahnemannian  theory 
of  medical  science,  which  had  just  been  introduced 
into  the  United  States  by  Dr.  Hans  B.  Gram,  and 
which  he  finally  accepted  as  the  system  of  cure 
having  most  pretensions  to  a  scientific  character. 
When  later  a  society  of  homoeopathic  physicians 


264  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

was  organized,  he  was  elected  its  first  president. 
In  a  letter  written  to  his  old  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Dewey,  in  January,  1842,  he  recapitulates  the  sub 
jects  then  occupying  most  of  public  attention,  and 
among  them  he  enumerates  homoeopathy,  which  he 
says  "  is  carrying  all  before  it.  Conversions  are 
making  every  day.  Within  a  twelvemonth  the 
number  of  persons  who  employ  homoeopathic  physi 
cians  has  doubled.  A  homoeopathic  society  has 
been  established,  and  I  have  delivered  an  inaugural 
lecture  before  it,  —  a  defense  of  the  system  which 
I  am  to  repeat  next  week.  The  heathen  rage  ter 
ribly,  but  their  rage  availeth  nothing."  Bryant's 
faith  in  this  system  of  medication  grew  with  his 
years ;  and  he  became  quite  expert  in  its  applica 
tion  to  the  ordinary  ailments  of  his  family  and  de 
pendents.  His  lecture  did  much  to  commend 
homoeopathy  to  the  public  confidence,  though  his 
extraordinary  vigor  of  body  and  mind  was  more 
convincing  to  most  persons  than  anything  he  could 
write  or  preach. 

It  is  a  curious  coincidence  that  his  death  was 
the  result  not  of  disease  but  of  a  fall,  and  that  the 
only  alarm  he  ever  experienced  about  his  health, 
after  he  embraced  homoeopathy,  was  also  in  conse 
quence  of  a  fall.  As  he  was  going  to  his  office 
one  morning,  —  he  was  then  in  his  eightieth  year, 
—  he  slipped  on  the  street  and  fell.  To  this  acci 
dent  he  makes  the  following  playful  allusion  in  a 
letter  to  Miss  C.  Gibson,  one  of  his  very  few 
regular  correspondents  :  — 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  265 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  your  health  does  not 
improve  as  a  consequence  of  your  rambles  and 
sojourns  on  the  continent.  Will  it  never  be  so 
ordered  that  health,  like  some  diseases,  will  be 
come  contagious  ?  What  a  blessing  it  would  be 
for  some  of  us  if  a  good  constitution  were  catch 
ing,  like  the  small-pox !  if  freedom  from  pain,  and 
gayety  of  spirits,  and  the  due  and  harmonious  ac 
tion  of  all  our  physical  organs,  could  be  given  off 
from  one  to  another,  by  a  kind  of  infection  !  But, 
if  that  were  the  case,  the  bad  as  well  as  the  good 
would  have  the  advantage  of  it,  and  derive  from 
it  strength  for  their  guilty  purposes,  so  that,  on  the 
whole,  the  present  arrangement  need  not  be  dis 
turbed.  .  .  .  My  own  health,  concerning  which 
you  expressed  so  kind  a  concern,  is  very  good 
again.  Only  my  lame  shoulder  reminds  me  now 
and  then,  and  not  very  importunately  by  neuralgic 
twinges  and  shootings  of  pain,  of  the  unlucky  bruise 
which  it  had  from  my  fall  on  Broadway.  It  al 
ways  seems  to  me  that  there  is  a  kind  of  disgrace 
in  falling  to  the  ground.  Drunken  people  fall. 
As  I  got  up,  I  thought  to  myself,  '  Nobody,  at 
least,  is  here  who  knows  me.'  At  that  very  mo 
ment  a  gentleman,  whom  I  did  not  know,  asked : 
4  Are  you  hurt,  Mr.  Bryant?  '  'Of  course  not,'  I 
answered,  and  I  marched  off  down  town  as  if  I  had 
just  come  from  my  door." 

During  his  visit  to  Europe  in  1857,  he  left  his 
place  in  charge  of  Mr.  George  B.  Cline,  the  teacher 


266  WILLIAM  C'ULLEN  BRYAJfT. 

of  the  public  school  in  Roslyn,  whose  personal 
merits  and  professional  accomplishments  had  won 
his  respect  and  confidence.  Not  long  after  his  re 
turn,  his  worldly  affairs  now  warranting  the  ex 
pense,  he  engaged  Mr.  Cline  to  give  him  his  whole 
time,  and  to  discharge  all  the  duties  commonly  con 
fided  to  the  steward  of  an  English  estate.  He  was 
eminently  fortunate  in  this  arrangement,  which  re 
lieved  him  from  all  involuntary  care  of  his  country 
properties,  while  insuring  a  skillful  as  well  as 
faithful  execution  of  his  wishes  in  their  manage 
ment.  In  whatever  quarter  of  the  world  he  might 
be,  Bryant  never  seemed  to  lose  sight  of  his  landed 
properties,  nor  to  become  indifferent  to  the  details 
of  their  management,  of  which  a  voluminous  corre 
spondence  with  Mr.  Cline  still  bears  testimony. 
From  Heidelberg,  in  1857,  he  writes  :  — 
"  There  is  scarcely  anything  you  could  tell  me 
about  Cedarmere  [the  name  of  his  place  at  Ros 
lyn]  that  I  should  not  be  glad  to  know.  When 
a  time  arrives  in  which  there  is  less  to  do  than 
usual,  I  should  like  to  have  the  alders  cut  away 
about  the  pond,  particularly  on  the  east  side 
where  they  are  beginning  to  form  thickets.  In 
cold  weather,  also,  when  the  thing  is  practicable,  I 
should  like  to  have  some  loads  of  sand  brought 
from  Mott's  bank  —  it  being  understood  that  he 
is  to  be  paid  for  it  —  and  the  swampy  hollow  un 
der  the  Jargonelle  pear-tree  south  of  the  garden 
filled  up  with  it." 

From  Paris,  he  writes  :  — 


PERSONAL   AND   DOMESTIC  HABITS.  267 

44  In  regard  to  the  trees  on  the  hill  and  those 
near  the  boat-house  which  did  not  put  forth  leaves 
this  spring,  I  should  be  glad  if  you  could  ascertain 
by  any  marks  upon  them  to  what  varieties  of  fruit 
they  belonged,  that  you  could  replace  them.  If 
they  were  pears,  the  best  way  would  be  to  plant 
others  in  their  place  this  fall  as  soon  as  the  leaves 
begin  to  drop.  If  they  were  cherry  or  plum  trees, 
the  best  time,  according  to  my  experience,  is  to 
plant  them  early  in  the  spring,  and  to  mulch  the 
ground  about  their  roots,  that  they  may  not  suffer 
by  the  hot  dry  weather  of  the  ensuing  summer.  .  .  . 
In  addition  to  what  I  have  already  said  concern 
ing  the  thing's  I  wish  to  have  done  on  the  farm,  I 
have  at  present  only  to  say  that  I  should  like  a 
small  crop  of  wheat  put  in  this  fall,  that  I  may 
have  something  to  eat  when  I  return." 

From  Madrid,  he  writes  :  — 

44 1  should  like  the  business  of  the  farm  to  be  so 
planned  that  there  would  be  some  leisure  left  for 
certain  jobs,  such  as  keeping  the  fences  in  neat 
repair,  ditching,  draining  a  little,  patching  up  a 
thousand  things  that  always  want  looking  to,  and 
working  in  the  garden.  .  .  .  For  the  next  year, 
beginning  with  April,  I  wish  you  to  make  such 
arrangements  in  regard  to  the  workmen  employed 
on  the  place  as  you  may  think  most  judicious,  and 
in  regard  to  the  cows  kept  on  it,  to  do  just  as  you 
would  if  the  farm  belonged  to  you." 

From  Cadiz,  he  writes  :  — 

44 1  wish  you  to  write  Mr.  Dawes   [who  super- 


268  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

vised  the  place  at  Cummington]  that  in  getting 
blackberry  bushes  for  you  in  the  spring,  I  wish  him 
to  take  them  from  the  edge  of  the  wood  west  of 
the  new  orchard,  beginning  at  the  northwest  cor 
ner,  and  proceeding  about  a  third  of  the  way.  The 
berries  for  that  distance  are  all  of  the  best  kind  ; 
beyond  and  nearer  the  school-house  they  are  infe 
rior.  There  is  a  shrub  of  the  white  azalea  at  the 
corner  of  the  road  leading  from  my  place  in  Cum- 
inington  to  Mr.  Norton's,  which  I  wish  dug  up  and 
transferred  this  spring  to  the  garden  or  some  other 
suitable  place. 

"  I  wish  also  rows  of  trees  to  be  planted  on  each 
side  of  the  road  leading  up  to  Mr.  Ellis's  place. 
It  might  be  well  that  some  of  them  should  be 
evergreens. 

"  Mr.  Dawes  showed  me  in  Worthington  where 
a  man  who  has  many  evergreens  on  his  place  had 
successfully  planted  large  ones  to  the  north  of 
his  house,  screening  it  from  view.  I  suggested 
that  he  should  be  employed  to  plant  some  large 
ones  near  my  house,  to  be  paid  liberally  for  those 
that  live,  and  those  only.  Will  you  see  if  any 
thing  of  this  can  be  done?  Please  press  this 
matter.  You  know  I  cannot  wait  for  trees  to 
grow." 

From  Barcelona,  he  writes :  — 

"  I  have  just  been  to  the  market  here  and  bought 
four  oranges  for  two  cents." 

From  Nice,  he  writes  :  — 

"  I  wish  you  would  supply  the  place  of  the  Eu- 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          269 

ropean  chestnut-tree  that  died  near  the  summer- 
house,  and  plant  another  pine  near  Captain  Post's 
—  the  one  there  is  sickly." 

From  Malaga,  he  writes  :  — 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  so  good  an  account  as  you 
give  of  your  Sunday-school.  Both  in  that  and  your 
district  school  you  are  engaged  in  a  great  work  of 
good,  which  I  hope  you  will  not  desert  without  ma 
ture  consideration.  As  to  inconveniences  and  dis 
agreeable  things,  there  is  no  situation  in  life  free 
from  them  —  every  condition  and  occupation  hav 
ing  its  peculiar  troubles,  which  we  must  learn  to 
bear  and  make  as  light  as  we  can.  .  .  .  Julia  says 
she  would  like  you  to  set  out  a  clematis  on  the  east 
side  of  the  door,  not  the  wild,  strong-growing  clema 
tis  of  our  country  which  is  too  luxuriant,  and  would 
predominate  over  the  honeysuckle.  If  convenient, 
she  would  like  the  Clematis  flamula.  There  was 
one  planted  in  that  spot  and  it  must  have  died.  If 
this  should  be  inconvenient  take  any  climbing  plant 
from  the  garden.  .  .  .  We  are  here  in  Malaga,  ther 
country  of  fine  fruits  and  of  the  best  raisins,  and 
cannot  get  a  grape,  though  in  the  seaports  to  the 
north  we  found  both  that  and  other  fruits  most 
abundant  and  cheap." 

From  Marseilles,  he  writes :  — 

"  Should  your  mother  go  to  the  West  this  winter, 
Mrs,  Bryant  desires  that  you  would  get  her  at  our 
expense,  for  the  journey,  a  good  warm  cloak  or  dress 
and  a  warm  bonnet,  and  give  them  to  her  from  Mrs. 
Bryant.  ...  As  for  eggs  and  chickens,  my  wife 


270  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

says  they  are  yours  for  the  present,  —  use  what 
you  have  occasion  for,  only  leaving  a  stock  of  hens 
for  us  when  we  come  back,  —  not  too  many,  for 
they  are  a  nuisance." 

From  Rome,  he  writes  :  — 

"  There  is  [at  Cummington]  a  patch  of  low 
land  or  lamb  kill,  a  little  to  the  north  of  the  brook 
running  through  it,  which  I  wish  Mr.  Dawes  would 
extirpate.  The  Bates's  lost  a  sheep  last  sum 
mer,  and  I  think  from  eating  it.  There  is  also  a 
shrub  of  white  azalea  in  the  middle  of  the  road  at 
the  corner  between  my  farm  and  the  new  purchase, 
which  I  wish  to  have  dug  up  and  transplanted  to 
the  garden.  You  know  that  it  is  among  the  most 
fragrant  of  flowers.  ...  I  would  like  a  row  of 
evergreens  —  hemlocks,  I  think  the  best,  —  planted 
north  of  the  new  school-house  in  Cummington  so  as 
to  shelter  it  from  the  winter  wind.  ...  In  send 
ing  trees  and  shrubs  to  Cummington  you  will  not 
forget  Kohlenterias,  which  flourish  so  well  about 
'our  place,  alid  of  which  so  many  have  appeared  un 
der  the  large  tree.  The  monthly  honeysuckle  also 
would,  I  aui  pretty  sure,  do  well  there,  and  the 
trumpet  honeysuckle  also,  and  it  would  be  well  to 
add  some  of  the  hardier  roses." 

From  Dresden,  he  writes  :  —     . 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  I  suggested  that  you 
should  plant  in  my  plot  of  ground  in  the  cemetery 
some  of  those  white  violets  that  grow  about  the  little 
waterfall  that  comes  out  of  the  pond  south  of  the 
mill.  I  think  they  will  do  well  there.  They  seem 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  271 

to  like  a  spot  partially  shaded  where  the  grass  is 
not  so  thick  and  the  earth  a  little  broken." 

From  London,  he  writes  :  — 

"  You  say  that  Mrs.  Cline  has  been  sewing  some 
sheets  together  to  catch  curculios  under  the  plum- 
trees.  I  was  in  hopes  that  the  mixture  of  sawdust 
and  petroleum  under  the  trees  would  save  this 
trouble,  if  spread  copiously  and  wide  enough 
around  them.  I  cannot  see  how  a  curculio  could 
well  live  to  get  back  into  the  tree  after  falling 
among  it.  At  all  events,  I  wish  a  certain  number 
of  trees  to  be  left  to  that  remedy  alone,  that  we 
may  see  how  it  works." 

From  Gruff,  Perthshire,  Scotland,  he  writes  :  — 

"  Do  not  forget  the  Canada  thistles  in  the  field 
south  of  Captain  Post's.  ...  If  you  were  here 
you  would  miss  many  things  you  have  in  Roslyn. 
Garden  vegetables  are  dear  and  scarce,  and  some 
are  not  to  be  had.  The  tomato  can  be  raised  only 
under  glass.  Yet  the  winter  climate  is  such  that 
the  Portugal  laurel  flourishes  and  many  other  ever 
greens  too  tender  to  bear  the  cold  on  Long  Island. 
The  cinnamon  rose  is  just  coming  into  bloom.  I 
see  no  apple  nor  pear  trees,  which  abound  in  the 
southern  counties  of  the  island;  indeed,  a  fruit 
tree  of  any  sort  is  an  unwonted  sight  here.  Yes 
terday  in  going  through  the  grounds  of  a  large 
landed  proprietor  I  found  a  walk  of  an  eighth  of  a 
mile  between  plantations  of  rhododendrons  in  full 
flower.  The  jonquil  grows  wild  here,  and  is  just 
passing  out  of  bloom." 


272  WILL  JAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

From  Cummington,  he  writes  :  — 

"  The  rainy  weather  has  given  place  to  bright 
and  beautiful  days.  I  went  to  church  on  Sunday 
at  the  east  village,  and  heard  a  sermon  so  much 
poorer  than  the  previous  one  at  the  west  village, 
that  I  think  of  going  back  to  the  west  village  next 
Sunday." 

From  the  office  of  the  "  Evening  Post,"  he 
writes :  — 

"  I  forgot  to  say  to  you  that  I  hoped  you  would 
see  that  the  pears  do  not  decay  in  the  front  room 
and  the  library.  .  .  .  You  will  give,  of  course,  the 
usual  presents  to  the  men.  Please  get  a  black  al 
paca  dress  for  Mrs.  Tilfor  if  she  needs  it.  ...  I 
send  you  an  advertisement  relating  to  the  Japanese 
flower,  the  Lilium  auratum,  which  is  sold  cheap. 
Mr.  Nordhoff  suggests  that  if  you  care  to  have 
any  of  the  bulbs,  you  had  better  see  him  before 
getting  them." 

From  Mount  Savage,  he  writes :  — 

"  I  think  it  will  be  well  to  make  two  or  three 
barrels  of  cider,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  have  it  made 
of  apples  which  are  half  rotten  or  in  any  way  un 
sound.  I  want  it  made  of  picked,  selected  apples, 
and  put  in  barrels  which  are  perfectly  sweet.  It 
will  probably  be  well  to  attend  to  this  before  I  re 
turn." 

From  Cummington,  he  writes  :  — 

"  The  pears  came  last  evening,  Friday,  in  a 
pouring  rain,  the  sixth  rainy  day  that  we  have  had 
in  succession.  The  earth  is  as  full  of  moisture  as 


RSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          273 

a  sponge  just  dipped  in  water,  and  is  letting  it  out 
everywhere.  As  to  the  pears,  they  came  in  very 
good  order.  A  few  of  the  Tysons  and  the  Otts 
were  spoiled,  and  but  a  few  ;  they  were  all  except 
the  spoiled  ones  ready  for  eating.  Both  the  Otts 
and  the  Dearborns  are  much  better  than  those  you 
sent  before,  and  the  Cedarrneres  which  we  have 
left  can  hardly  be  eaten  after  the  excellent  pears 
which  we  got  last  evening.  I  think  of  coming  for 
the  plums  with  my  brother  next  Tuesday." 

When  in  town,  his  correspondence  was,  of  course 
more  frequent,  but  wherever  he  was,  whether  at 
home,  or  in  Europe  or  Asia  or  Africa  or  Spanish 
America,  he  never  seemed  to  lose  sight  of  nor  inter 
est  in  whatever  nature  or  art  were  doing  or  could  be 
persuaded  to  do  at  Roslyn  and  Cummington.  He 
was  a  good  farmer  and  an  accomplished  botanist. 
There  was  nothing  that  drew  its  life  from  the  soil 
which  was  not  to  him  a  divine  expression  of  pro 
found  and  fascinating  mysteries,  which  he  was 
always  desiring  to  penetrate ;  much  of  his  poetry 
shows  with  what  success. 

Bryant  was  about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height, 
very  erect,  lithe,  and  well  formed.  He  never  be 
came  fleshy,  but  to  the  last  retained  the  elasticity 
and  alertness  which  in  the  lower  animals  are  to 
kens  of  high  breeding  and  careful  training.  He 
was  among  his  school-fellows  noted  for  his  beauty, 
and  in  his  old  age  his  appearance  was  very  distin 
guished.  A  finer  looking  head  than  his  at  eighty 


274  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

was  only  to  be  seen  in  art  galleries.  Whoever  saw 
him  in  his  later  years  would  discern  a  new  force 
and  fitness  in  those  lines  of  Dr.  Donne  :  — 

"  No  spring  nor  summer  beauty  has  such  grace 
As  I  have  seen  in  an  autumnal  face." 

The  austerity  of  his  life,  for  he  never  cultivated 
any  artificial  appetites,  contributed  to  keep  him 
comparatively  lean  in  flesh.  Hence  his  endurance 
even  at  eighty  was  remarkable.  There  were  few 
young  men  who  cared  to  follow  him  in  his  tramps, 
or  who  could  scale  a  mountain  with  less  physical 
inconvenience.  He  was  not  fond  of  riding,  and 
was  rarely  seen  in  a  carriage  for  recreation.  I 
never  knew  of  his  riding  a  horse.  Walking  was 
his  favorite  out-of-door  exercise.  He  was  a  great 
favorite  with  ladies  and  with  children,  and  had 
the  rare  art  of  entertaining  them  without  seem 
ing  to  descend  for  the  purpose.  He  never  in 
dulged  in  chaff  or  persiflage,  nor  in  jokes  at  others' 
expense.  The  severest  punishment  he  visited  upon 
any  one  whose  society  was  not  congenial,  and  that 
was  severe  enough,  was  to  let  him  do  all  the  talk 
ing  and  to  see  as  little  of  him  as  possible. 

Bryant  had  been  brought  up  in  the  Presbyterian 
faith  and  to  regard  Calvin  as  its  profoundest  ex 
positor.  "  Calvinism  "  was  practically  the  religion 
of  all  New  England,  where  there  was  any  religion 
at  all,  at  the  beginning  of  this  century.  While 
Dr.  Bryant  was  a  member  of  the  General  Court, 
Buckminster  and  Channing  were  enthralling  vast 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  275 

audiences  in  Boston,  both  by  their  eloquence  and 
by  a  theology  which  seemed  to  a  certain  class 
of  minds  more  consistent  with  the  deductions  of 
human  reason.  A  Unitarian  professor  was  also 
appointed  at  Harvard  University.  Dr.  Bryant 
listened  to  the  preachers  of  these  new  doctrines, 
subscribed  to  their  publications,  and  brought  the 
doctrines  of  the  new  school  back  to  his  family, 
where  they  found  a  ready  acceptance. 

When  he  came  to  New  York  to  live,  Bryant  fre 
quented  the  church  of  Dr.  Follen,  less  because  of 
his  varied  intellectual  resources,  which  were  ex 
ceptional,  than  because  of  the  freedom  he  found 
there  for  the  expansion  of  the  religious  life  in  all 
directions.  Dr.  Folleri  was  called  a  Unitarian. 
Bryant  continued  until  his  death,  when  in  town, 
to  attend  the  churches  of  tins  denomination,  under 
the  successive  pastorates  of  Dewey,  Osgood,  and 
Bellows.  At  Roslyn,  he  attended  the  Presbyterian 
church,  of  which  Dr.  Ely  was  pastor.  Of  this 
church  he  was  a  trustee,  a  constant  attendant,  and 
one  of  the  largest  contributors  to  its  maintenance. 
Though  habitually  an  attendant  upon  the  ministra 
tions  of  the  Unitarian  clergy  when  they  were  ac 
cessible,  no  one  ever  recognized  more  completely 
nor  more  devoutly  the  divinity  of  Christ.  To  a 
little  volume  from  the  pen  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Alden, 
entitled  "  Thoughts  on  the  Religious  Life,"  he  con 
tributed  a  preface,  in  which  he  says  :  — 

"  I  cannot  but  lament  the  tendency  of  the  time, 
encouraged  by  some  in  the  zealous  prosecution  of 


276  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

science,  to  turn  its  attention  from  the  teachings  of 
the  gospel,  from  the  beautiful  example  of  Christ's 
life,  and  the  supremely  excellent  precepts  which 
He  gave  to  his  disciples,  and  the  people  who  re 
sorted  to  hear  Him.  To  those  teachings  and  that 
example  the  world  owes  its  recovery  from  the 
abominations  of  heathenism.  The  very  men  who 
in  the  pride  of  their  investigations  into  the  secrets 
of  the  material  world  turn  a  look  of  scorn  upon 
the  Christian  system  of  belief  are  not  aware  how 
much  of  the  peace  and  order  of  society,  how  much 
of  the  happiness  of  their  households  and  the  pu 
rity  of  those  who  are  dearest  to  them,  are  owing  to 
the  influence  of  that  religion  extending  beyond 
their  sphere.  There  is  no  character  in  the  whole 
range  of  qualities  which  distinguish  men  from 
each  other  so  fitted  to  engage  our  admiration  and 
so  pregnant  with  salutary  influence  on  society  as 
that  which  is  formed  on  the  Christian  pattern  by 
the  precepts  of  the  gospel,  and  a  zealous  imitation 
of  the  example  of  the  Great  Master. 

"  This  character,  of  which  Christ  was  the  perfect 
model,  is  in  itself  so  attractive,  so  'altogether 
lovely,'  that  I  cannot  describe  in  language  the  ad 
miration  with  which  I  regard  it ;  nor  can  I  express 
the  gratitude  I  feel  for  the  dispensation  which  be 
stowed  that  example  on  mankind,  for  the  truths 
which  He  taught,  and  the  sufferings  He  endured 
for  our  sakes.  I  tremble  to  think  what  the  world 
would  be  without  Him.  Take  away  the  blessing 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          277 

of  the  advent  of  his  life  and  the  blessings  pur 
chased  by  his  death,  in  what  an  abyss  of  guilt 
would  man  have  been  left  ?  It  would  seem  to  be 
blotting  the  sun  out  of  the  heavens  —  to  leave  our 
system  of  worlds  in  chaos,  frost,  and  darkness. 

"  In  my  view  of  the  life,  the  teachings,  the  la 
bors,  and  the  sufferings  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  there 
can  be  no  admiration  too  profound,  no  love  of 
which  the  human  heart  is  capable  too  warm,  no 
gratitude  too  earnest  and  deep,  of  which  He  is 
justly  the  object.  It  is  with  sorrow  that  my  love 
for  Him  is  so  cold,  and  my  gratitude  so  inadequate. 
It  is  with  sorrow  that  I  see  any  attempt  to  put 
aside  his  teachings  as  a  delusion,  to  turn  men's 
eyes  from  his  example,  to  meet  with  doubt  and 
denial  the  story  of  his  life. 

"  For  my  part,  if  I  thought  that  the  religion  of 
skepticism  were  to  gather  strength  and  prevail 
and  become  the  dominant  view  of  mankind,  I 
should  despair  of  the  fate  of  mankind  in  the  year? 
that  are  yet  to  come.  .  .  . 

"  The  religious  man  finds  in  his  relations  to  his 
Maker  a  support  to  his  virtue  which  others  cannot 
have.  He  acts  always  with  a  consciousness  that 
he  is  immediately  under  the  eyes  of  a  Being  who 
looks  into  his  heart  and  sees  his  inmost  thoughts, 
and  discerns  the  motives  which  he  is  half  unwilling 
to  acknowledge  even  to  himself.  He  feels  that  he 
is  under  the  inspection  of  a  Being  who  is  only 
pleased  with  right  motives  and  purity  of  intention, 
and  who  is  displeased  with  whatever  is  otherwise. 


278  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

He  feels  that  the  approbation  of  that  Being  is  in 
finitely  more  to  be  valued  than  the  applause  of  all 
mankind,  and  his  displeasure  more  to  be  feared 
and  more  to  be  avoided  than  any  disgrace  which 
he  might  sustain  from  his  brethren  of  mankind." 

I  will  here  allow  myself  the  liberty  of  quoting 
a  few  paragraphs  from  a  letter  of  Miss  Bryant 
which  exhibits  some  of  the  aspects  of  her  father's 
domestic  life  of  peculiar  interest.  After  inviting 
my  attention  to  Dr.  Alden's  book,  she  says :  — 

"  This  preface  must  have  been  one  of  the  last  things 
written  by  my  father.  It  speaks  more  fully  than  I 
have  known  him  to  do  elsewhere  of  his  religious  belief 
and  of  his  belief  in  Christ,  and  is  very  touching,  I  think. 
I  remember  how  earnestly  he  used  to  enjoin  upon  me 
to  study  the  character  and  example  of  Christ  and  to  try 
to  follow  it.  He  was  so  reserved  even  with  his  children 
in  speaking  of  such  subjects  that  he  rarely  admonished 
any  one  in  this  way,  but  when  he  did  it  was  done  with 
a  simplicity  and  earnestness  that  made  it  something 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

"  My  father  and  mother  with  Dr.  Ely  took  an  active 
part  in  procuring  for  the  village  the  cemetery  at  Roslyn, 
where  they  both  now  are  buried,  and  since  Dr.  Ely's 
death  my  father  was  always  liberal  in  subscribing  to 
ward  the  salary  of  the  clergyman  sent  there.  He  com 
muned  there  because  Dr.  Ely  was  a  liberal  man,  and 
always  invited  all  members  of  other  churches  and  de 
nominations  who  might  be  present  to  join  in  the  com 
munion  service.  Every  Sunday  my  father  and  I  pre 
pared  flowers  which  we  took  to  my  mother's  grave  to 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  279 

lay  upon  it,  and  upon  those  of  the  Godwin  children. 
When  I  was  out  at  Roslyn,  my  father  and  Mr.  Cline 
went  together  ;  and  also,  on  the  day  of  my  mother's 
death,  the  26th  of  July,  the  graves  were  covered  with 
flowers.  My  father  was  much  interested  in  picking  the 
flowers  himself,  and  nothing  ever  interfered  with  this 
task  of  love. 

u  On  Sunday  mornings  he  always  read  prayers  and  a 
chapter  from  the  Bible,  using  Tyndal's  translation  al 
ways  when  at  Roslyn,  and  Furness's  Prayers  generally, 
sometimes  Sadler's.  In  the  evenings,  in  town,  after  my 
father  had  left  the  parlor,  I  would  sometimes  go  up 
to  his  library,  and  almost  always  find  him  reading  the 
book  of  prayers  or  some  other  religious  book.  He  never 
spoke  of  it,  but  I  think  it  was  his  invariable  custom  to 
read  in  his  room  some  pages  of  books  of  this  kind  be 
fore  retiring.  Every  Sunday  morning,  from  the  time  I 
can  remember,  we  had  morning  prayers,  and  I  suppose 
it  was  only  on  Sundays,  because  in  earlier  years  my 
father  was  obliged  to  leave  home  on  week  days  before 
the  family  could  be  assembled  for  prayers  ;  and  when 
we  were  in  the  country  he  passed  most  of  the  week  in 
town.  Dr.  Bellows  remarked  upon  the  regularity  of 
his  attendance  at  morning  and  evening  church ;  he 
scarcely  ever  failed.  On  Sunday  evenings  if  anything 
prevented  his  going  to  church,  and  generally  in  the 
country  where  we  had  no  church,  he  read  a  sermon 
aloud,  one  of  Dr.  Dewey's  or  South's,  or  formerly  one 
of  Beecher's  (but  of  late  years  he  did  not  read  his  to 
the  family  circle),  sometimes  Phillips  Brooks's  or  James 
Freeman  Clarke's,  or  Robertson's,  for  whose  works  and 
life  he  had  great  admiration.  Very  few  people  knew 
how  much  my  father's  time  was  occupied  with  religious 


280  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

matters,  especially  during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  and 
after  my  mother's  death  he  read  more  books  of  that 
character  than  any  other.  He  wrote  a  preface  to  a 
book  of  devotional  poems  collected  by  Miss  J.  Dewey, 
and  published  after  his  death.  Miss  Dewey  was  one  of 
the  persons  to  whom  my  father  talked  most  freely  on 
religious  matters,  although  he  was  very  reserved  about 
his  feelings  and  sentiments." 

Bryant  used  to  say  that  a  gentleman  should 
never  talk  of  his  love  affairs  or  of  his  religion. 
There  was  no  subject,  however,  as  Miss  Bryant 
states,  that,  during  many  of  the  later  years  of  his 
life,  occupied  so  large  a  share  of  his  thoughts  as 
religion  itself  ;  none  about  which  he  seemed  more 
inclined  to  listen ;  but  of  his  own  spiritual  expe 
riences  he  was  singularly  reticent.  I  do  not  re 
member  to  have  heard  of  his  defining  his  creed 
upon  any  of  the  differentiating  questions  of  the 
ology,  or  of  avowing  a  single  dogma ;  neither  do  I 
believe  such  an  utterance  can  be  found  in  any  of  his 
writings.  The  preface  to  Dr.  Alden's  little  book 
already  cited  approaches  nearest  to  an  exception. 

The  catholic,  unsectarian  character  of  Bryant's 
religion,  his  profound  conviction  of  the  presence 
of  God  wherever  He  is  made  welcome,  doubtless 
had  its  influence  in  delaying  till  quite  late  in  life 
his  connection  with  "  the  visible  church."  What, 
if  any,  change  in  his  opinions  occurred,  or  what 
special  motive  led  him  to  take  this  step  when  he 
did  rather  than  at  any  earlier  period  of  his  life, 
has  never  transpired.  It  was  at  Naples  in  1858, 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.  281 

and  in  the  sixty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  that  he  first 
determined  to  make  a  formal  public  profession  of 
the  Christian  faith  and  "  unite  with  the  church." 
of  this  event,  we  have  the  fullest,  indeed  the  only 
original,  account  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Waterston,  of 
Boston. 

"Mrs.  Bryant,"  he  tells  us,  "had  been  suddenly  pros 
trated  by  serious  illness,  and  he  had  watched  over  her 
through  many  anxious  weeks.  ...  At  this  time  [April 
23d]  I  received  from  him  a  note  stating  that  there 
was  a  subject  of  interest  upon  which  he  would  like  to 
converse  with  me.  On  the  following  day,  the  weather 
being  delightful,  we  walked  in  the  Villa  Reale,  the  royal 
park  or  garden  overlooking  the  Bay  of  Naples.  Never 
can  I  forget  the  beautiful  spirit  that  breathed  through 
every  word  he  uttered,  the  reverent  love,  the  confid 
ing  trust,  the  aspiring  hope,  the  rooted  faith.  Every 
thought,  every  view  was  generous  and  comprehensive. 
Anxiously  watching,  as  he  had  been  doing,  in  that  twi 
light  boundary  between  this  world  and  another,  over 
one  more  precious  to  him  than  life  itself,  the  divine 
truths  and  promises  had  come  home  to  his  mind  with 
new  power.  He  said  that  he  had  never  united  himself 
with  the  church,  which  with  his  present  feelings  he 
would  most  gladly  do.  He  then  asked  if  it  would  be 
agreeable  to  me  to  come  to  his  room  on  the  morrow 
and  administer  the  Communion,  adding  that,  as  he  had 
not  been  baptized,  he  desired  that  ordinance  at  the  same 
time.  The  day  following  was  the  Sabbath,  and  a  most 
heavenly  day.  In  fulfillment  of  his  wishes,  in  his  own 
quiet  room,  a  company  of  seven  persons  celebrated  to 
gether  the  Lord's  Supper.  With  hymns,  selections 


282  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

from  the  Scripture,  and  devotional  exercises,  we  went 
back  in  thought  to  the  'large  upper  room  '  where  Christ 
first  instituted  the  Holy  Supper  in  the  midst  of  his  dis 
ciples.  Previous  to  the  breaking  of  bread  William  Cul- 
len  Bryant  was  baptized.  With  snow-white  head  and 
flowing  beard,  he  stood  like  one  of  the  ancient  Prophets, 
and  perhaps  never  since  the  days  of  the  Apostles  has  a 
truer  disciple  professed  allegiance  to  the  Divine  Mas 
ter.  .  .  .  After  the  service,  while  standing  at  the  win 
dow  looking  out  with  Mr.  Bryant  over  the  bay,  smooth  as 
glass  (the  same  water  over  which  the  Apostle  Paul  sailed, 
in  the  ship  from  Alexandria,  when  he  brought  Christian 
ity  into  Italy),  the  graceful  outline  of  the  Island  of 
Capri  relieved  against  the  sky,  with  that  glorious  scene 
reposing  before  us,  Mr.  Bryant  repeated  the  lines  of 
John  Leyden,  the  Oriental  scholar  and  poet,  —  lines 
which,  he  said,  had  always  been  special  favorites  of  his, 
and  of  which  he  was  often  reminded  by  that  holy  tran 
quillity  which  seems,  as  with  conscious  recognition,  to 
characterize  the  Lord's  Day. 

' '  With  silent  awe,  I  hail  the  sacred  morn, 

That  scarcely  wakes  while  all  the  fields  are  still ; 

A  soothing-  calm  on  every  breeze  is  borne, 

A  graver  murmur  echoes  from  the  hill, 

And  softer  sings  the  linnet  from  the  thorn. 

Hail,  lig-ht  serene  !     Hail,  sacred  Sabbath  morn!  '  " 

It  was  under  the  spell  of  the  emotions  which 
guided  him  to  the  "  large  upper  room "  on  this 
occasion  that  Bryant  penned  the  following  lines, 
which  reveal  more  of  his  "  inner  life  "  than  any 
outside  of  his  household  ever  learned  probably 
from  his  lips. 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          283 
THE  CLOUD  ON  THE  WAY. 

' '  See  before  vis,  in  our  journey,  broods  a  mist  upon  the  ground  ; 
Thither  leads  the   path  we  walk  in,  blending  with  that  gloomy 

bound. 

Never  eye  hath  pierced  its  shadows  to  the  mystery  they  screen ; 
Those  who  once  have  passed  within  it  never  more  on  earth  are 

seen. 

Now  it  seems  to  stoop  beside  us,  now  at  seeming  distance  lowers, 
Leaving  banks  that  tempt  us  onward  with  summer  green  and 

flowers. 

Yet  it  blots  the  way  forever ;  there  our  journey  ends  at  last ; 
Into  that  dark  cloud  \ve  enter,  and  are  gathered  to  the  past. 
Thou  who,  in  this  flinty  pathway,  leading  through  a  stranger 

land, 

Passest  down  the  rocky  valley,  walking  with  me  hand  in  hand, 
Which  of  us  shall  be  the  soonest  folded  to  that  dim  unknown  ? 
Which  shall  leave  the  other  walking  in  this  flinty  path  alone  ? 
Even  now  I  see  thee  shudder,  and  thy  cheek  is  white  with  fear, 
And  thou  clingest  to  my  side  as  comes  that  darkness  sweeping 

near. 
'Here,'  thou  sayst,  'the  path  is  rugged,   sown  with  thorns  that 

wound  the  feet. 
But  the  sheltered  glens   are  lovely,   and   the   rivulet's  song  is 

sweet ; 
Roses   breathe  from  tangled  thickets;   lilies  bend  from  ledges 

brown ; 
Pleasantly   between   the   pelting   showers    the   sunshine   gushes 

down  ; 
Dear  are  those  who  walk  beside  us,  they  whose  looks  and  voices 

make 

All  this  rugged  region  cheerful,  till  I  love  it  for  their  sake. 
Far  be  yet  the  hour  that  takes  me  where  that  chilly  shadow  lies, 
From  the  things  I  know  and  love  and  from  the  sight  of  loving 

eyes !  ' 
So   thou  murmurest,   fearful  one ;  but  see,  we  tread  a  rougher 

way; 
Fainter  glow  the  gleams  of  sunshine  that  upon  the  dark  rocks 

play; 

Rude  winds  strew  the  faded  flowers  upon  the  crags  o'er  which  we 
pass; 


284  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

Banks  of  verdure  when  \ve  reach  them  hiss  with  tufts  of  withered 
grass. 

One  by  one  \ve  miss  the  voices  which  we  loved  so  well  to  hear ; 

One  by  one  the  kindly  faces  in  that  shadow  disappear. 

Yet  upon  the  mist  before  us  fix  thine  eyes  with  closer  view  ; 

See  beneath  its  sullen  skirts,  the  rosy  morning1  glimmers  through. 

One  whose  feet  the  thorns  have  wounded  passed  that  barrier  and 
came  back, 

With  a  glory  on  his  footsteps  lighting  yet  the  dreary  track. 

Boldly  enter  where  He  entered,  all  that  seems  but  darkness  here 

When  thou  once  hast  passed  beyond  it,  haply  shall  be  crystal- 
clear. 

Viewed  from  that  serener  realm,  the  walks  of  human  life  may 
lie, 

Like  the  page  of  some  familiar  volume,  open  to  thine  eye ; 

Haply,  from  the  o'erhanging  shadow,  thou  mayst  stretch  an  un 
seen  hand, 

To  support  the  wavering  steps  that  print  with  blood  the  rugged 
land. 

Haply  leaning  o'er  the  pilgrim,  all  unweeting  thou  art  near; 

Thou  mayst  whisper  words  of  warning  or  of  comfort  in  his  ear 

Till,  beyond  the  border  where  that  brooding  mystery  bars  the 
sight 

Those  whom  thou  hast  fondly  cherished,  stand  with  thee  in  peace 
and  light." 

Though  Bryant's  poetry  is  mainly  devoted  to 
the  illustration  of  some  pious  thought,  or  to  the 
translation  of  some  of  the  spiritual  sentiments 
which  he  found  concealed  in  nature's  mystic  ver 
nacular,  no  one  could  infer  from  any  poem  he  ever 
wrote  the  denomination  of  Christians  with  which 
he  was  most  in  sympathy.  Any  one  of  them 
might  have  claimed  him,  as  all  claim  Moses  and 
the  Prophets. 

Dr.  Bellows,  his  pastor  during  the  later  years  of 
his  life,  has  spoken  with  authority  of  his  religious 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          285 

character  in  the  discourse  pronounced  at  his  funeral. 
"  A  devoted  lover  of  religious  liberty,  he  was  an 
equal  lover  of  religion  itself  —  not  in  any  precise 
dogmatic  form,  but  in  its  righteousness,  reverence, 
and  charity.  What  his  theology  was,  you  may 
safely  infer  from  his  regular  and  long  attendance 
in  this  place  of  Christian  worship.  Still  he  was 
not  a  dogmatist,  but  preferred  practical  piety  and 
working  virtue  to  all  modes  of  faith.  What  was 

O 

obvious  in  him  for  twenty  years  past  was  an 
increasing  respect  and  devotion  to  religious  institu 
tions,  and  a  more  decided  Christian  quality  in  his 
faith.  I  think  he  had  never  been  a  communicant 
in  any  church  until  he  joined  ours,  fifteen  years 
ago.  From  that  time,  nobody  so  regular  in  his 
attendance  on  public  worship,  in  wet  and  dry, 
cold  and  heat,  morning  and  evening,  until  the  very 
last  month  of  his  life.  The  increasing  sweetness 
and  beneficence  of  his  character,  meanwhile,  must 
have  struck  his  familiar  friends.  His  last  years 
were  his  devoutest  and  most  humane  years.  He  be 
came  beneficent  as  he  grew  able  to  be  so,  and  his 
hand  was  open  to  all  just  need  and  to  many  un 
reasonable  claimants." 

Bryant  showed  little  taste  for  metaphysical  stud 
ies  or  speculations.  He  came  into  the  possession 
of  the  most  profound  and  important  truths,  by 
sheltering  his  judgment  from  worldly  and  selfish 
influences,  and  by  extirpating  all  evil  and  un 
worthy  proclivities.  By  making  his  soul  a  fitting 
dwelling-place,  wisdom  sought  its  hospitality.  But 


286  WILLIAM  Ci'LLEN  BRYANT. 

he  trusted  himself  rarely  to  tlie  open  sea  of 
speculation.  His  mind  was  perfectly  inaccessible 
to  crotchets.  When  he  went  to  war  he  always 
equipped  himself  with  proved  weapons.  Yet  he 
was  always  open  to  new  ideas,  and  the  farthest  in 
the  world  from  believing  that  man  had  reached 
the  limits  of  knowledge  in  any  direction.  No 
man  ever  had  a  profounder  sense  of  responsibility 
for  what  he  taught ;  and  while  he  listened  patiently 
when  necessary  to  the  dreams  and  speculations  of 
enthusiasts,  he  never  asked  any  such  indulgence 
from  his  readers.  He  never  professed  to  be  wiser 
than  everybody  else,  nor  to  see  farther.  He  never 
shocked  the  most  simple-minded  of  his  readers  by 
startling  novelties  in  thought  or  expression.  He 
never  plucked  truths  before  they  were  ripe.  He 
never  confounded  the  chemist's  laboratory  with  the 
kitchen,  nor  served  his  readers'  table  with  the  prod 
ucts  of  the  crucible,  or  the  retort. 

Bryant  shrank  from  ostentation  of  any  kind,  and 
especially  from  any  ostentation  of  charity,  which  in 
its  gospel  acceptation  is  the  highest  practical  con 
summation  of  the  religious  life.  His  charity  was 
like  his  own 

%  ..."  clear  spring  that  midst  its  herbs 

Wells  softly  forth  and  wandering1  steeps  the  roots 
Of  half  the  mighty  forest,  tells  no  tale 
Of  all  the  good  it  does." 

There  was  no  phariseeism  of  any  description  in 
Bryant's  make-up.  He  treated  every  neighbor  as 
if  he  were  an  angel  in  disguise  sent  to  test  his 


PERSONAL  AND   DOMESTIC  HABITS.          287 

loyalty  to  the  golden  rule.  For  sixteen  years,  and 
until  his  death,  he  was  the  principal  contributor  to 
a  Christmas  treat  for  the  inmates  of  the  North 
Hempstead  poor-house.  Mr.  Cline  was  instructed 
by  him  to  distribute  the  surplus  of  his  garden 
among  his  neighbors,  and  he  informs  me  that  he 
has  sometimes  given  as  many  as  eighty  chickens 
to  the  poor  of  the  village  on  Thanksgiving  Day 
under  Mr.  Bryant's  directions. 

Mr.  Cline  one  day  expressed  a  desire  to  Bryant 
that  some  one  would  prepare  a  good  book  of  prayers 
for  schools.  Bryant  had  one  which,  with  a  few 
changes,  he  thought  would  answer.  Finding  ifc 
acceptable  to  Mr.  Cline,  he  ordered  sixty  copies 
for  the  village  school  at  his  own  expense.  In  the 
holidays  he  always  contributed  liberally  for  the  ex 
penses  of  an  entertainment  to  the  school  children. 
The  winter  before  the  family  went  to  Europe  in 
1857,  they  remained  in  Roslyn  until  February. 
On  one  of  the  coldest  nights  of  the  season,  towards 
midnight,  Bryant  was  awakened  by  a  noise  under 
his  window.  On  opening  it  he  found  there  the  son 
of  one  of  his  neighbors,  intoxicated  and  noisy. 
Bryant  went  down  to  him  and  urged  him  to  go 
home.  To  this  he  seemed  indisposed.  Finally, 
by  dint  of  some  management  and  many  entreaties, 
and  by  bearing  him  company,  Bryant  succeeded  in 
getting  the  young  man  to  his  own  door,  half  a  mile 
or  more  distant.  No  one  knew  that  lie  had  this 
failing ;  and  rather  than  expose  him  to  the  gossip 
of  the  servants  and  neighborhood,  Bryant  passed  a 


288  WILLIAM  CULLKN  BRYANT. 

couple  of  hours  of  a  fearfully  inclement  night,  at 
the  risk  of  his  own  life,  in  trying  to  save  the  life 
as  well  as  character  of  this  young  man,  who  was 
in  danger  of  freezing  to  death  if  left  to  himself. 

He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  presents,  even 
to  his  family.  He  gave  when  and  what  seemed  to 
him  to  be  needed.  Neither  did  he  care  for  presents 
himself,  except  a  box  of  candy  now  and  then, 
which  always  pleased  him,  and  with  which  he  was 
always  sure  to  be  well  provided  on  holiday  occa 
sions. 

As  he  prospered  in  his  basket  and  his  store,  his 
heart  seemed  proportionately  to  swell  with  sensibil 
ity  for  the  well-being  of  others,  which  he  testified  in 
a  thousand  ways,  of  which  no  account  has  ever  been 
made  except  in  the  Book  of  Life.  He  learned  to 
regard  his  worldly  possessions  as  a  trust  to  be  con 
secrated  to  holy  uses.  When  they  abounded  he  gave 
bountifully,,  while  in  his  hand-to-hand  struggles  with 
poverty  during  the  first  forty  or  fifty  years  of  his 
life  he  sent  no  one  empty  away.  Two  costly  in 
stitutions  founded  by  him,  one  at  Koslyn  and  the 
other  at  Curnmington,  will  remain,  for  generations 
to  come,  monuments  of  his  judicious  munificence.1 

He  had  no  great  faith,  however,  in  the  charity 
that  limits  itself  to  the  relief  of  physical  suffering 
and  material  wants,  except  in  so  far  as  it  might  affect 
the  benefactor.  Knowing  that  sorrow  and  privation 
had  their  own  proper  uses  in  the  divine  economy, 

1  A  fine  library  and  reading-room  in  each  of  these  places  were 
built,  and  liberally  stocked  with  books,  entirely  at  his  expense. 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          289 

and  that  we  have  only  to  change  ourselves  to  change 
our  environment,  he  regarded  it  as  a  less  profitable 
employment  of  time  and  money  to  spend  them  in 
relieving  cases  of  individual  distress  than,  by  his 
example  and  pen,  to  enlighten  and  purify  whole 
communities  by  demonstrating  and  commending 
sounder  principles  of  thought  and  conduct. 

Bolingbroke  says  in  one  of  his  letters  from  La 
Source,  "  I  have  a  friend  in  this  country  who  has 
been  devoted  these  five  and  twenty  years  to  judicial 
astrology.  I  begin  to  believe,  for  I  know  not 
whether  I  should  wish  it  or  no,  that  he  will  have 
the  mortification,  before  he  dies,  of  finding  out 
that  a  quarter  of  an  hour  well  employed  in  examin 
ing  principles  would  have  saved  him  a  quarter  of  a 
century  spent  about  consequences." 

Bryant  had  much  the  same  notion  of  the  efficacy  of 
the  charities  of  the  purse  which  essay  to  change  the 
environment  and  not  the  individual,  as  compared 
with  the  charity  which  changes  the  environment  by 
first  changing  the  individual.  In  a  letter  to  Miss 
Dewey,  he  discloses  this  view  pretty  clearly  in  some 
comments  upon  the  career  of  an  eminent  contem 
porary. 

"  I  have  read  every  word  of  Canon  Kingsley's 
'  Life  and  Letters,'  and  thought  better  of  him  for 
reading  it.  He  was  very  decided  in  his  opinions, 
but  very  modest  in  his  notion  of  his  own  merits ; 
and  though  conservative  in  regard  to  the  Anglican 
church,  tolerant  and  kind  to  those  who  did  not 
agree  with  him.  He  was  a  friend  to  the  humbler 


290  WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 

classes,  and  a  most  faithful  and  sympathetic  pas 
tor,  wearing-  out  his  life  for  his  flock ;  yet  I  cannot 
see  that  he  contemplated  doing  them  any  good,  save 
by  personal  effort  and  kind  attentions.  I  do  not  find 
in  any  part  of  the  memoir  that  he  sought  to  improve 
the  institutions  under  which  the  working  class  in 
England  had  been  kept  poor  and  degraded." 

Bryant's  notion  was  that  as  an  hour's  sun  would 
accomplish  more  than  all  the  fires  in  all  the  fire 
places  in  the  land  to  warm  and  light  it,  so  any 
effort  of  a  man  of  genius  like  Kingsley  to  correct 
public  abuses,  to  define  and  to  smooth  the  paths  of 
duty  to  all  classes,  to  remove  restrictions,  and  to 
adjust  the  burdens  of  government  more  equitably 
among  them,  might  have  reached  and  ameliorated 
the  conditions  of  millions,  to  whom  his  name  was 
and  still  is  as  completely  unknown  as  that  of  the 
woman  who  washed  the  feet  of  Jesus  with  her  tears 
and  wiped  them  with  her  hair. 

With  friends  whom  he  knew,  or  with  people  whom 
he  respected,  Bryant  was  genial,  chatty,  and  enter 
taining,  but  never  familiar.  Even  with  his  family, 
whom  he  always  treated  with  the  utmost  tenderness 
and  consideration,  he  was  reserved  ;  while  express 
ing  what  he  thought,  rarely  revealing  what  he  felt. 
Like  Milton,  he  was  frugal  though  not  grudging  of 
praise  ;  and  one  might  have  known  him  for  years 
without  receiving  from  him  any  special  evidence  of 
the  regard  which  he  really  entertained.  He  had 
no  objection  to  lend  his  presence  where  it  would 
serve  a  useful  purpose,  and  he  rarely  refused  an 


PERSONAL   AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          291 

application  from  any  charitable  or  religious  organ 
ization  ;  but  he  had  a  more  than  ordinary  aversion 
to  being  made  a  spectacle  of  to  gratify  any  one's 
vanity  or  ambition,  his  own  least  of  all.  These 
lines  of  Shakespeare  seem  to  have  been  always  in 
his  mind,  if  not  on  his  lips  :  — 

"  I  love  the  people 

But  do  not  like  to  stage  me  to  their  eyes. 
Though  it  do,  well,  I  do  not  relish  well 
Their  loud  applause  and  aves  vehement  ; 
Nor  do  I  think  the  man  of  safe  discretion 
That  does  affect  it." 

Neither  was  he  a  "  respecter  of  persons."  He 
sought  no  one's  acquaintance  or  society  because  of 
his  wealth,  or  rank,  or  prominence.  His  most  inti 
mate  friends  were  among  quiet  not  to  say  obscure 
and  unpretending  people.  There  was  no  social 
ladder  leading  to  or  from  his  house.  It  was  what 
they  were,  not  who  they  were,  that  determined  him 
in  his  choice  of  friends. 

"  I  remember,"  observes  Mr.  Godwin,  "  when 
Charles  Dickens  was  here,  Mr.  Bryant  was  invited 
by  a  prominent  citizen  to  meet  him  at  dinner,  but 
declined.  4  That  man,'  he  said,  '  has  known  me 
for  years  without  asking  me  to  his  house,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  be  made  a  stool-pigeon  to  attract  birds 
of  passage  that  may  be  flying  about." 

To  Dana,  who  had  given  some  one  a  letter  of  in 
troduction  to  him,  he  said  :  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  be 
useful  to  him  in  any  way  ;  but  how  can  you  who 
know  me  ask  me  to  get  acquainted  with  anybody. 


292  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  got  acquainted  with  any 
body,  of  set  purpose,  in  my  life.  The  three  things 
most  irksome  to  me  in  my  transactions  with  the 
world  are,  to  owe  money,  to  ask  a  favor,  and  to 
seek  an  acquaintance.  The  few  excellent  friends 
I  have  1  acquired  I  scarcely  know  how  —  certainly 
by  no  assiduity  of  my  own." 

Bryant  had  a  marvelous  memory.  His  familiar 
ity  with  the  English  poets  was  such  that  when  at 
sea,  where  he  was  always  too  ill  to  read  much,  he 
would  beguile  the  time  by  reciting  to  himself  page 
after  page  from  favorite  poems.  He  assured  me 
that  he  had  never  made  a  voyage  long  enough  to 
exhaust  his  resources.  I  once  proposed  to  send 
for  a  copy  of  a  magazine  in  which  a  new  poern  of 
his  was  announced  to  appear.  "  You  need  not  send 
for  it,"  said  he,  "  I  can  give  it  to  you."  "  Then 
you  have  a  copy  with  you,"  said  I.  "  No,"  he 
replied,  "  but  I  can  recall  it,"  and  thereupon  pro 
ceeded  immediately  to  write  it  out.  I  congratu 
lated  him  upon  having  such  a  faithful  memory. 
"  If  allowed  a  little  time,"  he  replied,  "  I  could 
recall  every  line  of  poetry  I  have  ever  written." 

He  rated  his  memory  at  its  true  value,  however, 
and  never  abused  it.  It  was  a  blooded  steed  which 
he  never  degraded  to  the  uses  of  a  pack-horse. 
Hence  he  was  fastidious  about  his  reading  as  about 
his  company,  believing  there  was  no  worse  thief 
than  a  bad  book  ;  but  he  never  tired  of  writers  who 
have  best  stood  the  test  of  time.  He  had  little 
taste  for  historical  reading.  Indeed,  the  habits  of 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          293 

liis  mind  were  not  at  all  in  sympathy  with  the  in 
ductive  method  of  reaching  new  truths  or  prop 
agating  them.  He  often  deplored  the  increasing 
neglect  of  the  old  English  classics,  which  our  mod 
ern  facilities  for  printing  were  displacing.  John 
son's  "  Lives  of  the  Poets  "  was  one  of  his  favorite 
books.  Pope,  who  has  educated  more  poets  in  the 
art  of  verse-making  than  any  other  modern  author, 
was,  from  early  youth,  his  pocket  companion.  I 
think  he  had  studied  him  more  carefully  than  any 
other  English  writer,  and  was  specially  impressed 
by  his  wit. 

One  day,  as  I  was  looking  over  the  books  on  the 
shelves  of  his  library  at  Roslyn,  he  called  my 
attention  to  his  position.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  fallen  quite  accidentally  into  the  precise  atti 
tude  in  which  Pope  is  commonly  represented,  with 
his  forehead  resting  on  his  fingers."  He  then  got 
up  to  look  for  an  illustration  among  his  books.  He 
did  not  find  what  he  sought,  but  he  brought  two 
other  editions,  each  representing  Pope  with  an 
abundance  of  hair  on  his  head,  one  an  old  folio 
containing  a  collection  of  Pope's  verses,  written  be 
fore  he  was  twenty-five  years  of  age. 

I  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  the  new  edition  of 
Pope's  works  which  Elwin  was  editing.  He  said 
he  had  not,  nor  heard  of  it.  I  then  told  him  that 
Elwin  left  Pope  scarcely  a  single  estimable  per 
sonal  quality,  and  had  stripped  him  of  a  good 
share  of  the  literary  laurels  which  he  had  hitherto 
worn  in  peace.  He  promptly  said  that  he  did  not 


294  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

care  to  see  it ;  that  he  was  not  disposed  to  trust 
such  a  judgment,  however  ingeniously  defended, 
and  quoted  Young's  lines  on  Pope,  "  Sweet  as 
his  own  Homer,  his  life  melodious  as  his  verse." 
That,  said  he,  is  the  judgment  of  a  contemporary. 
He  then  read  some  lines  from  other  poets  in  far 
ther  defense  of  his  favorite.  He  was  unwilling  to 
have  his  idea  of  Pope  disturbed,  and  when  I  sug 
gested  that  he  should  get  Elwin,  he  said,  "  No,  I 
want  no  better  edition  than  Wai-burton's,  the  edi 
tion  that  was  in  my  father's  library,  and  which  I 
read  when  a  boy."  Bryant's  admiration  of  Pope  is 
the  more  remarkable,  as  two  characters  more  un 
like  could  not  be  readily  imagined. 

Bryant  took  but  little  note  of  any  but  moral  dis 
tinctions  among  men.  Mere  worldly  rank  im 
pressed  him  as  little  as  any  man  I  ever  knew, 
though  he  appreciated,  and  no  one  more  justly, 
the  qualities  that  merited  such  distinction.  I  was 
once  his  guest  at  Roslyn  with  a  member  of  the 
English  peerage,  who  at  the  close  of  the  first  re 
past  after  our  arrival  presumed  upon  the  privilege 
accorded  to  persons  of  his  rank  at  home  to  rise 
first  and  dismiss  the  table.  Mr.  Bryant  joined  me 
on  our  way  to  the  parlor,  and  writh  an  expression 
of  undisguised  astonishment  asked  me,  "  Did  you 
see  that  ?  "  I  replied  that  I  did,  and,  with  a  view 
of  extenuating  the  gentleman's  offense  as  much  as 
I  could,  said  that  he  evidently  thought  he  was  only 
exercising  one  of  the  recognized  prerogatives  of  his 
order.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  he  will  have  no  oppor- 


PERSONAL  AND  DOMESTIC  HABITS.          295 

t unity  of  repeating  it  here  ;  "  and  he  was  as  good 
as  his  word,  for  during  the  remainder  of  our  so 
journ,  no  one  was  left  in  doubt  whose  prerogative 
it  was  in  that  house  to  dismiss  the  table.  Some 
weeks  later  he  alluded  to  this  incident,  and  quoted 
from  a  conversation  he  had  once  held  with  Feni- 
more  Cooper  his  strictures  upon  this  exasperating 
assumption  of  the  titled  classes  in  some  communi 
ties  of  the  Old  World.  He  was  willing  that  others 
should  adopt  any  standard  that  pleased  them  best 
by  which  to  rate  their  fellows,  himself  included, 
but  he  would  not  accept  directly  or  indirectly  for 
himself  any  other  standard  than  that  which,  so  far 
as  he  knew,  his  Maker  would  apply. 

Bryant  was  a  man  of  the  most  unassailable  dig 
nity.  It  was  impossible  even  for  his  familiars  to 
take  any  liberties  with  him.  His  influence  upon 
all  who  entered  his  presence  was  akin  to  that  at 
tributed  by  Cowley  to  the  daughter  of  Saul. 

' '  Merab  with  spacious  beauty  filled  the  sight 
But  too  much  awe  chastened  the  bold  delight 
Like  a  calm  sea  which  to  the  enlarged  view, 
Gives  pleasure  but  gives  fear  and  reverence  too." 

"While  preparing  for  college  occurred  an 
event,"  says  Bryant,  "  which  I  remember  with  re 
gret.  My  grandfather  Snell  had  always  been  sub 
stantially  kind  to  me  and  ready  to  forward  any 
plan  for  my  education,  but  when  I  did  what  in  his 
judgment  was  wrong,  he  reprimanded  me  with  a 
harshness  which  was  not  so  well  judged  as  it  was 
probably  deserved.  I  had  committed  some  foolish 


296  WILLIAM   CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

blunder,  and  he  was  chiding  with  even  more  than 
his  usual  severity ;  I  turned  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  steady  gaze.  '  What  are  you  staring  at  ?  ' 
he  asked,  '  did  you  never  see  me  before  ?  '  '  Yes,' 
I  answered,  '  I  have  seen  you  many  times  before.' 
He  had  never  before  heard  a  disrespectful  word 
from  my  lips.  He  turned  and  moved  away,  and 
never  reproved  me  again  in  that  manner,  but  never 
afterward  seemed  to  interest  himself  so  much  as 
before  in  any  matter  that  concerned  me."  It  is 
harder  to  forgive  a  person  we  have  wronged  than 
one  who  has  wronged  us.  That  is  probably  the 
explanation  of  the  change  in  the  grandfather's 
manner  and  deportment  towards  his  refractory 
grandchild.  The  heavy  armor  of  puritanical  Phil 
istinism  was  no  proof  against  the  sling  and  peb 
bles  of  this  stripling,  conscious  of  deserving  and 
brave  enough  to  insist  upon  better  treatment. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LAST    DAYS. 

THE  man  who  knew  so  well  as  Bryant  how  to 
live  must  have  known  as  well  how  to  die.  It  is 
commonly  but  too  true  that  "un  mourant  a  bien 
pen  de  chose  a  dire  quand  il  ne  parle  niparfai- 
blesse  ni  par  vanite,"  but  when  Bryant  was  sum 
moned  to  take  "  his  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of 
death,"  he  took  with  him  all  his  noble  faculties, 
and  neither  feebleness  nor  vanity  were  among 
them. 

"  In  years  he  seemed  but  not  impaired  by  years." 

It  would  have  been,  therefore,  in  the  highest 
degree  interesting  and  instructive  to  have  watched 
him  in  the  process  of  putting  the  last  enemy 
under  his  feet,  and  to  have  marked  the  impres 
sion  which  the  immediate  prospect  of  shedding 
his  mortality  and  of  putting  on  immortality  would 
produce  on  such  a  rare  personality.  But  this 
was  a  privilege  which  Providence  did  not  see  fit 
to  accord.  To  his  closing  days  there  was  to  be  no 
twilight.  He  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  deliver 
an  address  at  the  unveiling  of  a  statue  to  Mazzini, 
the  Italian  patriot,  in  Central  Park,  on  Wednes- 


298  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

day,  the  29th  of  May,  1878.  He  had  not  been 
feeling  well  for  several  days,  which,  however,  did 
not  prevent  his  spending  the  morning  at  his  office 
in  the  discharge  of  customary  duties.  After  a 
light  luncheon  he  was  driven  to  Central  Park. 
The  day  \vas  warm.  The  sun  shone  so  brightly 
that  a  friend  insisted,  though  with  but  partial  suc 
cess,  upon  sheltering  his  head  with  an  umbrella. 
When  he  had  finished  his  discourse  he  appeared 
quite  exhausted,  and  should  have  returned  imme 
diately  to  his  home.  He  was  too  amiable  to  de 
cline  an  invitation  from  Mr.  James  Grant  Wilson 
to  accompany  him  across  the  Park  to  his  house,  and 
on  foot.  They  ascended  the  steps  together.  What 
then  occurred  has  been  thus  circumstantially  re 
ported  by  Mr.  Wilson. 

"  As  we  approached  my  house,  about  four  o'clock, 
Mr.  Bryant  was  recalling  the  scenes  of  the  previous  year 
on  the  occasion  of  the  President's  visit  as  such  to  New 
York,  and  he  was  still,  I  think,  cheerfully  conversing  on 
that  subject  as  we  walked  up  arm  in  arm,  and  entered 
the  vestibule.  Disengaging  my  arm,  I  took  a  step  in 
advance  to  open  the  inner  door,  and  during  the  few  sec 
onds,  without  the  slightest  warning  of  any  kind,  the  ven 
erable  poet,  while  my  back  was  turned,  dropped  my 
daughter's  hand  and  fell  suddenly  backward  through  the 
open  outer  door,  striking  his  head  on  the  stone  platform 
of  the  front  steps,  with  one  half  of  his  body  still  lying 
in  the  vestibule.  I  turned  just  in  time  to  see  the  sick 
ening  sight  of  the  silvered  head  striking  the  stone,  and 
springing  to  his  side  hastily  raised  him  up.  He  was 
unconscious,  and  I  supposed  that  he  was  dead.  Ice 


LAST  DATS.  299 

water  was  immediately  applied  to  the  head,  and,  with 
the  assistance  of  a  neighbor's  son  and  the  servants,  he 
was  carried  into  the  parlor.  A  soft  pillow  was  placed 
at  one  end  for  his  head,  as  he  lay  unconscious  at  full 
length  on  the  sofa.  He  was  restless,  and  in  a  few  min 
utes  sat  up,  and  drank  the  contents  of  a  goblet  filled 
with  iced  sherry,  which  partially  restored  him,  and  he 
asked  with  a  bewildered  look,  k  Where  am  I  ?  I  do 
not  feel  at  all  well.  Oh,  my  head  !  my  head  !  '  accom 
panying  the  words  by  raising  his  right  hand  to  his  fore 
head.  He  now  recognized  me,  and  looked  curiously 
around  the  room,  still  with  a  dazed  and  uncertain  ex 
pression  :  '  Was  it  not  here  that  President  Hayes  was 
received  ?  '  again  exclaiming,  '  How  strangely  I  feel ; 
I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me  this  afternoon. 
My  head  !  my  head  !  '  Still  with  a  bewildered  manner, 
as  if  he  were  struggling  for  the  recovery  of  his  reason, 
he  fixed  his  eyes  keenly  on  me,  and  apparently  with  an 
idea  that  something  had  happened  to  him,  and  with  a 
view  to  relieving  our  terrible  anxiety  concerning  him, 
he  attempted  to  make  some  pleasant  remarks.  '  Where 
did  you  say  you  were  building  ?  '  'Is  that  not  one 
of  Audubon's  pictures  ?  '  '  How  many  children  have 
you  ?  J  '  Where  are  you  going  with  your  family  this 
summer  ? '  are  a  few  of  the  questions  that  he  asked. 
The  gentleman,  as  was  remarked  of  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
may  be  said  to  have  survived  the  genius.  Declining  to 
retire  to  a  sleeping-room  and  to  permit  us  to  send  for 
our  own  or  his  physician,  he  expressed  a  wish  to  be 
taken  home.  He  ob]ected  to  going  in  a  carriage,  saying 
he  preferred  a  street  car.  Although  still  not  quite  him 
self,  he  expressed  his  wishes  in  a  most  emphatic  man 
ner,  and  about  4.30  said  he  would  like  to  start.  We 


300  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

accordingly  walked  together  to  the  corner  and  entered  a 
Madison  Avenue  car,  and  whenever  the  car  stopped  to 
take  on  or  let  off  a  passenger  he  would  ask,  '  Where 
are  we  now  ?  '  and  manifested  much  impatience  to  reach 
his  residence.  For  some  time  he  held  a  few  pieces  of 
silver  in  his  hand,  but  when  I  quietly  asked  him  to  re 
place  the  money  in  his  pocket  he  did  so.  Once  on  our 
way  down  he  added  my  name  to  the  usual  inquiry 
of  *  Where  are  we  now  ? '  Calling  a  carriage,  we 
stepped  into  it  from  the  car  at  Seventeenth  Street,  the 
conductor  showing  us  every  attention,  and  drove  rapidly 
to  his  house.  Once  only  on  our  way  did  he  speak,  and 
then  to  remark,  '  I  am  a  very  sick  man.'  On  our  ar 
rival  his  mind  again  wandered,  and  looking  up  he  said, 
'  Whose  house  is  this?  What  street  are  we  in?  Why 
did  you  hring  me  here  ?  '  Without  replying,  I  sooth 
ingly  said, We  will  step  in  since  we  are  here,  and  rest  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  so  gently  led  him  up  the  steps. 
Reaching  the  inner  door  he  mechanically  took  out  his 
pass-key,  opened  it,  and  returned  the  key  to  his  pocket, 
when  he  passed  into  the  parlor,  and  through  to  the  din 
ing-room,  where  he  sat  down  in  a  large  easy-chair.  At 
the  request  of  his  niece,  Miss  Fairchild,  I  assisted  him 
upstairs  to  the  library,  where  he  lay  down  on  the  lounge, 
and  then  went  for  Dr.  John  F.  Gray,  who  returned  with 
me  immediately,  and  on  examining  the  patient  said  the 
fall  was  produced  by  syncope,  and  had  caused  concus 
sion  of  the  brain,  but  not  necessarily  fatal.  This  was 
before  six  o'clock.  At  seven  he  came  again,  accompa 
nied  by  Dr.  Carnochan,  the  eminent  surgeon,  whose 
views,  I  understood,  coincided  with  those  of  Mr.  Bry 
ant's  physician.  Mr.  and  Mrs  Graham  and  other  in 
timate  family  friends  arrived,  and  I  then  took  my  leave 
a  little  before  eight  o'clock." 


LAST  DAYS.  301 

In  Dr.  Gray's  report  of  the  case,  he  said :  — 

"  Mr.  Bryant  during  the  first  few  days  would  get  up 
and  walk  about  the  library  or  sit  in  his  favorite  chair. 
He  would  occasionally  say  something  about  diet  and  air. 
When  his  daughter  Julia  arrived  from  Atlantic  City, 
where  she  had  been  for  her  health,  she  thought  her 
father  recognized  her,  but  it  is  uncertain  how  far  he 
recognized  her  or  any  of  his  friends.  The  family  were 
hopeful  and  made  the  most  of  every  sign  of  conscious 
ness  or  recognition.  On  the  eighth  day  after  the  fall, 
haemorrhage  took  place  in  the  brain,  resulting  in  paraly 
sis,  technically  called  hemiplegia,  which  extended  down 
the  right  side  of  the  body.  After  this  he  was  most  of 
the  time  comatose.  He  was  unable  to  speak,  and  when 
he  attempted  to  swallow,  his  food  lodged  in  his  larynx 
and  choked  him.  He  was  greatly  troubled  with  phlegm 
and  could  not  clear  his  throat.  There  was  only  that  one 
attack  of  haemorrhage  of  the  brain,  and  that  was  due  to 
what  is  called  traumatic  inflammation." 

For  fourteen  sad  and  tedious  days,  Bryant  thus 
lingered  while  life  was  ebbing 

.   .  .   "  unmarked  and  silent- 

"  As  the  slow  neap-tide  leaves  yon  stranded  galley. 
Late  she  rocked  merrily  at  the  least  impulse 
That  wind  or  wave  could  give  ;  but  now  her  keel 
Is  settling  on  the  sand  ;  her  mast  has  ta'en 
An  angle  with  the  sky  from  which  it  shifts  not. 
Each  wave  receding  shakes  her  less  and  less 
Till  bedded  on  the  strand  she  shall  remain 
Useless  and  motionless."  .  .  . 

At  half-past  five  on  the  morning  of  the  12th  of 
June,  that  heart  which  for  eighty-four  years  had 
never  rested  from  its  labors  ceased  to  beat. 


302  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

The  news  of  Bryant's  death  produced  an  im 
pression  only  to  be  expected  from  the  death  of  one 
who  had  long  been  regarded  as  the  first  citizen  of 
the  republic.  His  genius  and  his  virtues  were  the 
theme  of  every  periodical,  of  every  pulpit,  and  of 
every  literary  society  in  the  land.  For  a  time,  little 
was  to  be  seen  or  heard  but  these  swirling  eddies 
which  marked  the  place  where  the  ship  went  down. 
The  flags  of  the  city  where  he  died  and  of  the 
shipping  were  raised  at  half-mast,  his  portrait  was 
displayed  in  all  the  shop  windows,  and  his  writings 
were  in  special  demand  at  every  bookstore  and 
library. 

"  There  is  probably  no  eminent  man  in  the  coun 
try,"  wrote  Mr.  George  William  Curtis  in  "  Harper's 
Monthly,"  "  upon  whose  life  and  genius  and  career  the 
verdict  of  his  fellow-citizens  would  be  more  immediate 
and  unanimous.  His  character  and  life  had  a  simplicity 
and  austerity  of  outline  that  had  become  universally  fa 
miliar,  like  a  neighboring  mountain  or  the  sea.  His 
convictions  were  very  strong,  and  his  temper  uncompro 
mising  ;  he  was  independent  beyond  most  Americans. 
He  was  an  editor  and  a  partisan ;  but  he  held  politics 
and  all  other  things  subordinate  to  the  truth  and  the 
common  welfare,  and  his  earnestness  and  sincerity  and 
freedom  from  selfish  ends  took  the  sting  of  personality 
from  his  opposition,  and  constantly  placated  all  who, 
like  him,  sought  lofty  and  virtuous  objects.  Those  who 
watched  the  character  of  his  influence  upon  public  af 
fairs,  and  who  saw  him  daily  moving  among  us  a  vener 
able  citizen  noiselessly  going  his  way,  as  they  marked 
the  hot  and  bitter  strife  of  politics,  could  not  but  recall 


LAST  DAYS.  303 

the  picture  by  the  French  painter  Couture,  of  the  '  De 
cadence  of  Rome,'  in  which  the  grave  figure  of  the  older 
Roman  stands  softly  contemplating  the  riotous  license 
and  luxury  of  a  later  day.  Bryant  carried  with  him 
the  mien  and  the  atmosphere  of  antique  public  virtue. 
He  seemed  a  living  embodiment  of  that  simplicity  and 
severity  and  dignity  which  we  associate  with  the  old 
republics.  A  wise  stranger  would  have  called  him  a 
man  nurtured  in  republican  air  upon  republican  tradi 
tions." 

The  late  Dr.  Holland,  commenting  upon  the 
loss  the  world  had  sustained  in  the  death  of  Bryant 
in  "  Scribner's  Monthly,"  of  which  he  was  the  edi 
tor,  wrote  :  — 

"  By  reason  of  his  venerable  age,  his  unquestioned 
genius,  his  pure  and  lofty  character,  his  noble  achiev- 
ments  in  letters,  his  great  influence  as  a  public  jour 
nalist,  and  his  position  as  a  pioneer  in  American  litera 
ture,  William  Cullen  Bryant  had  become,  without  a 
suspicion  of  the  fact  in  his  own  modest  thought,  the 
principal  citizen  of  the  great  republic.  By  all  who 
knew  him  and  by  millions  who  never  saw  him  he  was 
held  in  the  most  affectionate  reverence.  When  he  died, 
therefore,  and  was  buried  from  sight,  he  left  a  sense  of 
personal  loss  in  all  worthy  American  hearts. 

"  He  never  sought  notoriety,  and  was  never  notorious. 
The  genuine  fame  that  came  to  him  came  apparently 
unsought.  It  grew  with  his  growth  and  strengthened 
with  his  strength,  and  at  the  last  it  became  a  shadow 
of  the  man  that  lengthened  momently  across  the  earth 
as  his  sun  descended.  Nothing  can  be  purer,  nothing 
more  natural,  nothing  more  enduring  than  his  reputa 
tion  ;  for  it  was  based  in  real  genius,  genuine  character, 


304  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

and  legitimate  achievement.  He  never  postured  him 
self  hefore  the  public ;  he  shrank  from  all  thought  of 
producing  a  sensation ;  he  had  the  humblest  opinion  of 
himself  ;  and  his  fame  was  simply  one  of  the  things 
that  he  would  not  help  and  could  not  hinder.  He  was 
a  man  of  character,  a  man  of  business  and  affairs,  and 
a  poet  —  or  perhaps  he  was  first  of  all  a  poet,  and 
afterward  all  that  made  up  a  complete  manhood.  These 
are  the  aspects  of  the  man  which  seem  most  worth  talk 
ing  about. 

"  Mr.  Bryant  was  a  poet  who  could  take  care  of  him 
self  and  get  a  living.  He  could  not  only  do  this,  but 
he  could  do  a  wise  and  manly  part  in  guiding  the  poli 
tics  of  the  country.  He  could  not  only  manage  his  own 
private  and  family  affairs  in  a  prosperous  way,  but  he 
could  discharge  his  duties  as  a  citizen  and  a  member  of 
society.  In  his  own  personal  character  and  history  he 
associated  probity  with  genius,  purity  with  art,  and  the 
sweetest  Christianity  with  the  highest  culture.  He  has 
proved  to  all  the  younger  generation  of  poets  that  hys 
terics  are  not  inspiration,  that  improvidence  is  not  an 
unerring  sign  of  genius,  that  Christian  conviction  and 
Christian  character  are  not  indications  of  weakness,  but 
are  rather  a  measure  of  strength,  and  that  a  man  may 
be  a  poet  and  a  poet  a  man.  So  much  of  a  certain  sort 
of  eccentricity  has  been  associated  with  the  poetic  tem 
perament  and  with  poetic  pursuits,  that,  in  some  minds, 
the  possession  of  practical  gifts  and  homely  virtues  is 
supposed  to  invalidate  all  claims  to  genius.  If  Mr.  Bry 
ant's  life  had  accomplished  nothing  more  than  to  prove 
the  falsity  of  this  wretched  notion,  it  would  have  been 
a  fruitful  one." 

It  was  to  multitudes  a  disappointment  that  re- 


LAST  DAYS.  305 

ppect  for  his  often  expressed  wishes  compelled  the 
family  to  decline  the  supervacuos  honores  of  an 
ostentatious  public  funeral.  On  the  14th,  his  re 
mains  were  taken  to  All  Saints  Church,  where  the 
poet  had  worshiped  for  many  years.  The  occa 
sion  attracted  a  vast  throng  from  every  rank  of 
life,  and  far  exceeding  the  seating  capacities  of  the 
church.  After  the  customary  devotional  exercises, 
the  pastor,  Dr.  Bellows,  delivered  a  feeling  and 
impressive  discourse,  from  which  I  allow  myself  to 
make  a  single  extract :  — 

"  It  is  the  glory  of  this  man  that  his  character  out 
shone  even  his  great  talent  and  his  large  fame.  Distin 
guished  equally  for  his  native  gifts  and  his  consummate 
culture,  his  poetic  inspiration  and  his  exquisite  art,  he  is 
honored  and  loved  to-day  even  more  for  his  stainless 
purity  of  life,  his  unswerving  rectitude  of  will,  his  devo 
tion  to  the  higher  interests  of  his  race,  his  unfeigned 
patriotism,  and  his  broad  humanity.  It  is  remarkable 
that  with  none  of  the  arts  of  popularity  a  man  so  little 
dependent  on  others'  appreciation,  so  self-subsistent  and 
so  retiring,  who  never  sought  or  accepted  office,  who 
had  little  taste  for  cooperation,  and  no  bustling  zeal 
in  ordinary  philanthropy,  should  have  drawn  to  himself 
the  confidence,  the  honor,  and  reverence  of  a  great  me 
tropolis,  and  become,  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  say, 
our  first  citizen.  It  was  in  spite  of  a  constitutional  re 
serve,  a  natural  distaste  for  crowds  and  public  occasions, 
and  a  somewhat  chilled  bearing  towards  his  kind,  that 
he  achieved  by  the  force  of  his  great  merit  and  solid 
worth  this  triumph  over  the  heart  of  his  generation. 
The  purity  of  the  snow  that  enveloped  him  was  more 


30G  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

observed  than  its  coldness,  and  his  fellow-citizens  be 
lieved  that  a  fire  of  zeal  for  truth,  justice,  and  human 
rights  burned  steadily  at  the  heart  of  this  lofty  person 
ality,  though  it  never  flamed  or  smoked.  And  they 
were  right !  Beyond  all  thirst  for  fame  or  poetic  honor 
lay  in  Bryant  the  ambition  of  virtue.  Reputation  he 
did  not  despise,  but  virtue  he  revered  and  sought  with 
all  his  heart.  He  had  an  intense  self-reverence  that 
made  his  own  good  opinion  of  his  own  motives  and 
actions  absolutely  essential.  And  though  little  tempted 
by  covetousness,  envy,  worldliness,  or  love  of  power,  he 
had  his  own  conscious  difficulties  to  contend  with,  a 
temper  not  without  turbulence,  a  susceptibility  to  in 
juries,  a  contempt  for  the  moral  weaknesses  of  others. 
But  he  labored  incessantly  at  self-knowledge  and  self- 
control,  and  attained  equanimity  and  gentleness  to  a 
marked  degree.  Let  none  suppose  that  the  persistent 
force  of  his  will,  his  incessant  industry,  his  perfect  con 
sistency  and  coherency  of  life  and  character  were  not 
backed  by  strong  passions.  With  a  less  consecrated 
purpose,  a  less  reverent  love  of  truth  and  goodness,  he 
might  easily  have  become  acrid,  vindictive,  or  selfishly 
ambitious.  But  he  kept  his  body  under  and,  a  far  more 
difficult  task  for  him,  his  spirit  in  subjection.  God  had 
given  him  a  wonderful  balance  of  faculties  in  a  marvel- 
ously  harmonious  frame.  His  spirit  wore  a  light  and 
lithe  vesture  of  clay  that  never  burdened  him.  His 
senses  were  perfect  at  fourscore.  His  eyes  needed  no 
glasses,  his  hearing  wras  exquisitely  fine.  His  alertness 
was  the  wonder  of  his  contemporaries.  He  outwalked 
men  of  middle  age.  His  tastes  were  so  simple  as  to  be 
almost  ascetic.  Milk  and  cereals  and  fruits  were  his 
chosen  diet.  He  had  no  vices  and  no  approach  to 


LAST  DAYS.  307 

them,  and  he  avoided  any  and  every  thing  that  could 
ever  threaten  him  with  the  tyranny  of  the  senses  or  of 
habit.  Regular  in  all  his  habits  he  retained  his  youth 
almost  to  the  last.  His  power  of  work  never  abated, 
and  the  herculean  translation  of  Homer,  which  was  the 
amusement  of  the  last  lustre  of  his  long  and  busy  life, 
showed  not  only  no  senility  or  decline  in  artistic  skill, 
but  no  decrease  of  intellectual  or  physical  endurance." 

These  ceremonies  over  at  the  church,  the  re 
mains  were  immediately  taken  to  Roslyn  for  inter 
ment  in  the  cemetery  which  Bryant  had  himself 
been  largely  instrumental  in  having  consecrated 
to  the  public  use,  attended  by  the  surviving  mem 
bers  of  his  family  and  a  few  of  his  more  intimate 
friends,  where  they  were  laid  beside  those  of  the 
wife  and  mother  at  whose  grave  he  had  shed  the 
tears  of  a  husband  and  father  twelve  years  before.1 

Dr.  Bellows  availed  himself  of  a  pause  in  the 
preparations  to  commend  to  the  villagers  and  other 
persons  assembled  some  of  the  lessons  of  Bryant's 
life  by  reading  selections  from  his  poems  which  had 
been  made  for  the  occasion  by  Mr.  John  C.  Bry 
ant,  the  poet's  brother.  He  then  read  some  ex- 

1  It  was  a  gratification  to  Bryant's  friends  that,  in  the  time  of 
his  death,  one  of  his  long-  cherished  wishes  had  been  realized. 
In  one  of  his  sweetest  poems,  written  as  early  as  1825,  he  ex 
pressed  the  hope 

"  That  when  he  came  to  lie 
At  rest  within  the  ground 
'T  were  pleasant ;  that  in  the  flowery  June 
When  brooks  send  up  a  cheerful  tune 

And  groves  a  joyous  sound 
The  Sexton's  hand  //i?  grave  to  make, 
The  rich,  green  mountain  turf  should  break." 


308  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

tracts  from  the  Scriptures,  made  a  brief  prayer, 
and  the  coffin  was  lowered  to  the  place  prepared 
for  it. 

There  was  probably  no  time  in  Bryant's  life  on 
earth  when  he  occupied  so  large  a  space  in  the 
heart  of  the  nation  or  so  much  of  its  attention  as 
in  the  remaining  months  of  the  year  succeeding 
his  death.  It  was  not  till  he  no  longer  walked 
among  men,  till  his  tongue  was  still,  and  the  press 
had  ceased  to  be  freighted  with  his  strengthening 
messages  of  wisdom  and  patriotic  faith,  that  his 
countrymen  began  to  realize  the  magnitude  of  the 
loss  they  had  sustained,  and  the  high  rank  he 
would  take  among  those  for  whom,  by  a  noble 
climax,  Virgil  reserved  the  Elysian  Fields. 

"  Patriots  were  there  in  freedom's  battle  slain, 
Priests  whose  long1  lives  were  closed  without  a  stain, 
Bards  worthy  him  who  breathed  the  poet's  mind, 
Founders  of  arts  that  dignify  mankind, 
And  lovers  of  our  race,  whose  labors  gave 
Their  names  a  memory  that  defies  the  grave."  ^ 

He  had  left  this  world  with  no  wish  or  ambi 
tion  unsatisfied.  Life  to  him  had  been  in  no  sense 
a  disappointment.  He  had  never  allowed  himself 
to  desire  what  it  did  not  please  the  Master  to  send 
to  him,  nor  to  repine  for  anything  that  was  denied 
him.  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  had  been  the  daily 
prayer,  not  only  of  his  lips  but  of  his  heart  and 
life. 

x  As  rendered  into  English  by  Bryant  himself. 


LAST  DAYS.  309 

For  months,  commemorative  addresses  followed 
each  other  in  convenient  succession.  That  which 
was  delivered  before  the  New  York  Historical  So 
ciety  by  George  William  Curtis  is  entitled  to  a 
permanent  place  in  our  literature. 

The  Century  Association,  which  Bryant  had 
helped  to  found,  and  of  which  at  the  time  of  his 
death  he  was  the  president,  testified  their  respect 
for  his  memory  in  a  special  meeting  held  on  the 
12th  of  November  following  the  poet's  death,  at 
which  poems  from  the  pens  of  Bayard  Taylor,  then 
Minister  of  the  United  States  at  Berlin,  Richard 
II.  Stoddard,  and  E.  C.  Stedman  were  read,  and 
an  address  was  delivered  by  the  writer  of  these 
pages. 

Bryant  left  two  children  :  the  elder,  the  wife 
of  Mr.  Parke  Godwin,  for  many  years  associated 
with  him  in  the  editorship  of  the  "  Evening  Post," 
and  Miss  Julia  Sands  Bryant,  each  of  whom  has 
been  the  inspiration  of  several  of  their  father's 
sweetest  poems. 

Mr.  Bryant  was  possessed  of  a  very  handsome 
estate,  which  he  devised  mainly  to  his  two  children 
by  a  will  executed  on  the  6th  of  December,  1872,1 
but  he  was  to  a  large  extent  his  own  executor,  hav 
ing  alienated  most  of  his  real  estate  before  his 
o 

death  in  accordance  with  the  provisions  of  his  will. 
The  "  Evening  Post,"  of  which  he  was  the  half 
proprietor,  was  sold  two  or  three  years  after  his 
death  for  about  $900,000. 

1  Appendix  B. 


310  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

In  the  foregoing  pages  I  have  attempted  to  por 
tray  the  more  prominent  features  of  the  most  sym 
metrical  man  I  have  ever  known.  I  may  be  sus 
pected  of  having  indited  a  eulogy  instead  of  a  biog 
raphy  ;  of  trying  to  produce  a  picture  that  shall 
be  all  light  and  no  shadow  ;  of  exhibiting  to  the 
world  a  monster  of  perfections.  If  I  am  laying 
myself  open  to  such  suspicions,  I  do  not  know  what 
I  can  change  to  avoid  them,  without  injustice  to 
my  theme.  I  have  not  sought  to  conceal  anything 
about  Mr.  Bryant  of  good  or  bad  that  was  known 
to  me.  I  have  represented  his  life  as  it  was  re 
vealed  to  me  and  as  I  appreciated  it. 

Bryant  was  born  to  the  same  sinful  inheritance 
as  the  rest  of  us  ;  but  I  can  say  of  him  with  per 
fect  truth,  that  with  his  faults  he  was  always  at 
war.  No  one  better  than  he  knew  the  enemies 
with  which  the  human  heart  is  always  besieged,  — 
the  enemies  of  his  own  household  ;  and  few  men 
ever  fought  them  more  valiantly,  more  persistently, 
or  more  successfully.  Those  who  knew  him  only 
in  his  later  years  would  scarcely  believe  that  he 
had  been  endowed  by  nature  with  a  very  quick 
and  passionate  temper.  He  never  entirely  over 
came  it,  but  he  held  every  impulse  of  his  nature  to 
such  a  rigorous  accountability,  that  few  have  ever 
suspected  the  struggles  with  which  he  purchased 
the  self-control  which  constituted  one  of  the  con 
spicuous  graces  of  his  character.  Bryant  had  his 
faults,  but  he  made  of  them  agents  of  purification. 
He  learned  from  them  humility  and  faith,  a  wise 


LAST  DAYS.  311 

distrust  of  himself,  and  an  unfaltering  trust  in 
Him  through  whose  aid  he  was  strengthened  to 
keep  them  in  abeyance.  By  God's  help  he  con 
verted  the  tears  of  his  angels  into  pearls. 

It  was  this  constant  and  successful  warfare 
upon  every  unworthy  and  degrading  propensity 
that  sought  an  asylum  in  his  heart  that  made  him 
such  a  moral  force  in  the  country,  that  invested 
any  occasion  to  which  he  lent  his  presence  with  an 
especial  dignity,  that  gave  to  his  personal  exam 
ple  a  peculiar  power  and  authority,  that  made  his 
career  a  model  which  no  one  can  contemplate 
without  being  edified,  which  no  one  can  study 
closely  without  an  inclination  to  imitate,  and 
which  no  one  can  imitate  without  strengthening 
some  good  impulses  and  weakening  the  hold  upon 
him  of  every  bad  one. 


APPENDIX  A. 
REMINISCENCES  OF  THE  "EVENING  PO^T." 

BY   WILLIAM    CULLEN    BRYANT. 

Extracted  from  the  Evening  Post  of  November  15,  1851,  with  ad 
ditions  and  corrections  by  the  writer. 

ON  the  15th  inst.  closed  the  first  half  century  of  the 
Evening  Post.  It  may  not  be  without  entertainment 
to  our  readers,  and,  perhaps,  not  entirely  without  in 
struction,  if  we  now  take  a  brief  survey  of  its  past  his 
tory  ;  in  other  words,  if  we  write  the  Life  of  the  Even 
ing  Post. 

The  first  number  of  the  Evening  Post  appeared  on 
the  16th  of  November,  1801,  printed  on  a  sheet  a  little 
more  than  a  quarter  of  the  present  size  of  the  journal. 
It  was  established  by  William  Golem  an,  a  barrister  from 
Massachusetts,  then  in  the  prime  of  manhood,  who  had 
won  the  good  will  of  the  distinguished  federalists  of  that 
day  —  Hamilton,  King,  Jay,  and  many  others,  worthy 
by  their  talents  and  personal  character  to  be  the  as 
sociates  of  these  eminent  men.  They  saw  in  Mr.  Cole- 
man  a  combination  of  qualities  which  seemed  to  fit  him 
for  the  conductor  of  a  daily  political  paper  in  those 
times  of  fervid  and  acrimonious  controversy,  and  several 
of  the  most  public-spirited  of  them  furnished  him  the 
means  of  entering  upon  the  undertaking. 

Mr.  Coleman  was  a  man  of  robust  make,  of  great  ap- 


APPENDIX.  313 

pearance  of  physical  strength,  and  of  that  temperament 
which  some  physiologists  call  the  sanguine.  He  was 
fond  of  pleasure,  but  capable  of  exertion  when  the  occa 
sion  required  it,  and,  as  he  was  not  disinclined  to  con 
troversy,  the  occasion  often  arose.  His  temper  was 
generous  and  sincere,  his  manners  kind  and  courteous ; 
he  was  always  ready  to  meet  more  than  half  way  the 
advances  of  an  enemy  ;  a  kind  or  appealing  word  dis 
armed  his  resentment  at  once,  and  a  pitiful  story,  even 
though  a  little  improbable,  always  moved  his  compassion. 
He  delighted  in  athletic  exercises  before  his  health 
failed,  and  while  yet  residing  in  Massachusetts  is  said, 
in  Buckingham's  Reminiscences,  to  have  skated  in  an 
evening  from  Greenfield  to  Northampton,  a  distance  of 
twenty  miles.  He  was  naturally  courageous,  and  hav 
ing  entered  into  a  dispute,  he  never  sought  to  decline 
any  of  its  consequences.  His  reading  lay  much  in  the 
lighter  literature  of  our  language,  and  a  certain  elegance 
of  scholarship  which  he  had  the  reputation  of  possess 
ing  was  reckoned  among  his  qualifications  as  a  jour 
nalist. 

The  original  prospectus  of  the  Evening  Post,  though 
somewhat  measured  in  its  style,  was  well  written.  The 
editor,  while  avowing  his  attachment  to  the  federal 
party,  acknowledges  that  "  in  each  party  are  honest  and 
virtuous  men,"  and  expresses  his  persuasion  that  the 
people  need  only  to  be  well  informed  to  decide  public 
questions  rightly.  He  seems  to  contemplate  a  wider 
sphere  of  objects  than  most  secular  newspapers  of  the 
present  day,  and  speaks  of  his  design  "  to  inculcate  just 
principles  in  religion,"  as  well  as  in»  "  morals  arid  poli 
tics."  Some  attempt  was  made  to  carry  out  this  inten 
tion.  In  one  of  the  earlier  numbers  is  a  communication 


314  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT. 

in  reply  to  a  heresy  avowed  by  the  American  Citizen,  a 
democratic  daily  paper  of  that  time,  in  which  it  had 
been  maintained  that  the  soul  was  material,  and  that 
death  was  a  sleep  of  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body.  Still 
later,  in  an  editorial  article,  appeared  a  somewhat  elab 
orate  discussion  of  the  design  of  the  Revelation  of 
St.  John. 

New  York,  at  that  time,  contained  a  little  more  than 
sixty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  scarcely  extended  north 
of  the  City  Hall  and  its  Park.  Beyond,  along  Broad 
way,  were  then  country  houses  and  green  fields.  That 
vast  system  of  foreign  and  internal  intercourse,  those 
facilities  of  communication  by  sail,  by  steamers,  by  rail 
ways,  the  advertisements  of  which  now  fill  column  after 
column  in  our  largest  daily  newspapers,  was  not  then 
dreamed  of ;  and  the  few  ships  and  sloops  soliciting 
freight  and  passengers  did  not  furnish  advertisements 
enough  to  fill  a  single  column  in  the  small  sheet  of  the 
Evening  Post.  Yet,  the  names  which  appear  in  the 
advertisements  of  its  very  first  number  indicate  a  cer 
tain  permanence  in  the  mercantile  community.  The 
very  first  advertisers  in  the  first  number  of  the  paper 
are  Hoffman  &  Seaton.  In  the  same  sheet  appear  the 
names  of  N.  L.  &  G.  Griswold,  names  which,  extending 
over  a  space  of  fifty  years,  connect  the  commencement 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  on  which  we  have  now  en 
tered,  with  the  last  half  of  the  eighteenth.  Here,  too, 
appear  the  advertisements  of  Frederick  Depeyster,  of 
William  Neilson,  Richard  &  John  Thorne,  Bethune  & 
Smith,  Gouverneur  &  Kemble,  Archibald  Gracie,  and 
John  Murray.  At  a  later  period,  in  the  first  year  of 
the  paper,  came  in  the  names  of  Minturn  &  Champlin, 
of  Aspinwall,  Me  Vicar,  and  Oakey. 


APPENDIX.  315 

T.  &  J.  Swords,  whose  names  are  familiar  to  all 
readers  of  American  publications,  then  had  their  book 
store  at  99  Pearl  Street ;  J.  Mesier  sold  books  at  107 
Pearl  Street ;  Brown  &  Stansbury,  at  114  Water  Street ; 
George  F.  Hopkins  and  D.  Longworth,  familiar  names, 
were  then  following  the  same  vocation,  and  J.  W.  Fenn 
was  offering  the  American  Ladies'  Pocket  Book  for 
1802,  just  published  at  Philadelphia,  in  a  long  and  elab 
orate  advertisement,  describing  the  elegant  engravings 
with  which  it  was  embellished. 

Among  the  advertisements  in  the  early  numbers  of 
the  paper  are  some  which  show  that  the  domestic  slave 
trade  was  then  in  existence  in  the  State  of  New  York. 
In  one,  "a  young  negro  woman,  twenty-one  years  of 
age,"  "  capable  of  all  kinds  of  work,  and  an  excellent 
cook,"  was  offered  for  sale,  "  for  want  of  employment." 
A  black  woman,  "  twenty-six  years  of  age,  and  a  good 
cook,"  was  offered  for  sale  "  on  reasonable  terms."  The 
advertisers  seem  to  have  been  willing  to  avoid  publicity 
in  this  matter,  for  no  names  are  given  ;  but  in  the  first 
of  these  cases,  the  purchaser  is  referred  to  the  printer, 
and  in  the  other,  the  name  of  the  street  and  number  of 
the  house  at  which  application  is  to  be  made  are  given. 

In  the  outset,  Mr.  Colemari  made  an  effort  to  avoid 
those  personal  controversies,  which  at  the  time  were  so 
common  among  conductors  of  party  papers,  and  with 
which  their  columns  were  so  much  occupied.  In  the 
leading  article  of  his  first  number,  signed  with  his 
initials,  he  expresses  his  abhorrence  of  "  personal  vir 
ulence,  low  sarcasm,  and  verbal  contentions  with  prin 
ters  and  editors,"  and  his  determination  not  to  be  di 
verted  from  "  the  line  of  temperate  discussion."  He 
found  this  resolution  difficult  to  keep. 


316  WILLIAM   CULLKN  BRYANT. 

At  that  time,  besides  the  American  Citizen,  published 
at  New  York,  a  democratic  daily  print  was  issued  in 
Philadelphia,  called  the  Aurora,  with  both  of  which  the 
Evening  Post  soon  found  itself  involved  in  unpleasant 
disputes.  James  Cheetham  was  the  editor  of  the  Ameri 
can  Citizen.  He  is  called  by  Bronson,  conductor  of 
the  Philadelphia  United  States  Gazette,  in  an  affidavit, 
"  an  Englishman  and  a  hatter,"  and  appears  to  have 
been  a  man  of  coarse  mind  and  manners,  and  not  easily 
abashed.  The  occasional  replies  to  his  attacks  in  the 
Evening  Post  indicate  that  he  kept  up  a  pretty  con 
stant  fire  of  small  personalities.  In  the  fourth  number 
of  the  paper,  the  Evening  Post  answers  an  insinuation 
that  a  letter  published  in  its  columns  was  not  authentic. 
The  editor  cautions  "Mr.  Cheetham "  to  beware  of 
wantonly  repeating  the  insinuation,  protesting  that  he 
will  not  allow  any  impeachment  of  his  veracity,  and  that 
he  will  not  engage  in  a  contest  of  abusive  epithets.  The 
editor  of  the  Aurora  was  William  Duane,  a  native  of 
Ireland,  whom  the  Evening  Post  stigmatized  as  "  a 
low-bred  foreigner."  In  all  its  contentions  with  these 
journals,  as  the  organ  of  their  party,  the  squabble  is 
always  with  Mr.  Cheetham  and  Mr.  Duane,  most  com 
monly  without  any  mention  of  their  respective  papers, 
and  these  men  in  return  seem  to  have  conducted  the 
warfare  in  the  same  spirit,  and  to  have  thought  that  if 
they  could  but  bring  Mr.  Coleman  into  personal  dis 
credit,  they  should  have  demolished  the  federal  party. 

The  Evening  Post  of  the  24th  of  November  records 
the  death  of  Philip  Hamilton,  eldest  son  of  General 
Alexander  Hamilton,  in  the  twentieth  year  of  his  age 
—  "  murdered,"  says  the  editor,  "  in  a  duel."  The  prac 
tice  of  dueling  is  then  denounced  as  a  "  horrid  custom," 


APPENDIX.  317 

the  remedy  for  which  must  be  "strong  and  pointed 
legislative  interference,"  inasmuch  a  as  fashion  has  placed 
it  on  a  footing  which  nothing  short  of  that  can  control." 
The  editor  himself  belonged  to  the  class  with  which 
fashion  had  placed  it  upon  that  footing,  and  was  des 
tined  himself  to  be  drawn  by  her  power  into  the  prac 
tice  he  so  strongly  deprecated. 

The  quarrel  with  Cheetham  went  on.  On  the  next 
day,  in  a  discussion  occasioned  by  the  duel  in  which 
young  Hamilton  fell,  he  mentioned  Cheetham,  and  spoke 
of  '•  the  insolent  vulgarity  of  that  base  wretch."  At  a 
subsequent  period,  the  Evening  Post  went  so  far  as,  in 
an  article  reflecting  severely  upon  Cheetham  and  Duane, 
to  admit  the  following  squib  into  its  columns  :  — 

"  Lie  on  Duane,  lie  on  for  pay, 

And  Cheetham,  lie  thou  too ; 
More  against  truth  you  cannot  say, 
Than  truth  can  say  'gainst  you.' ' 

These  wranglings  were  continued  a  few  years,  until 
the  Citizen  made  a  personal  attack  upon  Mr.  Coleman 
of  so  outrageous  a  nature  that  he  determined  to  notice 
it  in  another  manner.  Cheetham  was  challenged.  He 
was  ready  enough  in  a  war  of  words,  but  he  had  no  in 
clination  to  pursue  it  to  such  a  result.  The  friends  of 
the  parties  interfered  ;  a  sort  of  truce  was  patched  up, 
and  the  Citizen  consented  to  become  more  reserved  in 
its  future  assaults. 

A  subsequent  affair,  of  a  similar  nature,  in  which 
Mr.  Coleman  was  engaged,  was  attended  with  a  fatal 
termination.  A  Mr.  Thompson  had  a  difference  with 
him  which  ended  in  a  challenge.  The  parties  met  in 
Love  Lane,  now  Twenty-first  Street,  and  Thompson  fell. 
He  was  brought,  mortally  wounded,  to  his  sister's  house 


318  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

in  town  ;  he  was  laid  at  the  door,  the  bell  was  rung,  the 
family  came  out,  and  found  him  bleeding  and  near  his 
death.  He  refused  to  name  his  antagonist,  or  give  any 
account  of  the  affair,  declaring  that  everything  which 
had  been  done  was  honorably  done,  and  desired  that 
no  attempt  should  be  made  to  seek  out  or  molest  his 
adversary.  Mr.  Coleman  returned  to  New  York  and 
continued  to  occupy  himself  with  his  paper  as  before. 

Such  is  the  tradition  which  yet  survives  concerning 
the  event  of  a  combat  to  which  the  parties,  who  bore  no 
previous  malice  to  each  other,  were  forced  by  the  com 
pulsion  of  that  '"  fashion  "  against  which  one  of  them, 
on  the  threshold  of  his  career  as  a  journalist,  had  pro 
tested,  even  while  indirectly  recognizing  its  supremacy. 
The  quarrel  arose  out  of  political  differences,  Mr.  Cole- 
man  being  in  the  opposition,  and  Mr.  Thompson  a  friend 
of  the  administration. 

When  the  Evening  Post  was  established,  William 
Dunlap,  author  of  a  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design,  and  a 
History  of  the  American  Stage,  whose  books  are  in  the 
hands  of  many  of  our  readers,  and  whose  paintings,  after 
he  returned  to  his  original  profession  of  an  artist,  many  of 
them  have  seen,  was  manager  of  the  Park  Theatre.  At 
that  time  the  fashionable  part  of  the  New  York  popula 
tion  were  much  more  frequent  in  their  attendance  at 
the  theatre  than  now,  and  the  Evening  Post  contained 
frequent  theatrical  criticisms,  written  with  no  little  care, 
and  dwelling  at  considerable  length  on  the  merits  and 
faults  of  the  performers.  Public  concerts  were  also 
criticised  with  some  minuteness.  Still  lighter  subjects 
sometimes  engaged  the  attention  of  the  editor.  In  1802 
the  style  of  the  ladies'  dresses  was  such  as  to  call  forth, 
in  certain  quarters,  remarks  similar  to  those  which  are 


APPENDIX.  319 

now  often  made  on  the  Bloomer  costume.  On  the  18th 
of  May,  1802,  the  Evening  Post,  answering  a  female 
correspondent  who  asks  why  it  has  not,  like  the  other 
newspapers,  censured  the  prevailing  mode,  says  :  — 

"  Female  dress,  of  the  modern  Parisian  cut,  however  de 
ficient  in  point  of  the  ornament  vulgarly  called  clothing 
must  at  least  he  allowed  to  he  not  entirely  without  its  ad 
vantages.  If  there  is  danger  of  its  making  the  gentlemen 
too  prompt  to  advance,  let  it  not  he  unobserved  that  it  fits 
the  lady  to  escape.  Unlike  the  dull  drapery  of  petticoats 
worn  some  years  since,  but  now  banished  to  the  nursery  or 
kitchen,  the  present  light  substitute  gives  an  air  of  celerity 
which  seems  to  say  —  Catch  me  if  you  can." 

We  are  not  sufficiently  skilled  in  the  history  of  the 
modes  of  former  days  to  inform  our  readers  what  was 
the  substitute  for  petticoats  which  is  here  alluded  to. 

In  the  Evening  Post,  during  the  first  twenty  years  of 
its  existence,  there  is  much  less  discussion  of  public  ques 
tions  by  the  editors  than  is  now  common  in  all  classes  of 
newspapers.  The  editorial  articles  were  mostly  brief,  with 
but  occasional  exceptions,  nor  does  it  seem  to  have  been 
regarded,  as  it  now  is,  necessary  for  a  daily  paper  to 
pronounce  a  prompt  judgment  on  every  question  of  a 
public  nature  the  moment  it  arises.  The  annual  mes 
sage  sent  by  Mr.  Jefferson  to  Congress  in  1801  was 
published  in  the  Evening  Post  of  the  12th  of  December, 
without  a  word  of  remark.  On  the  17th  a  writer  who 
takes  the  signature  of  Lucius  Crassus  begins  to  examine 
it.  The  examination  is  continued  through  the  whole 
winter,  and  finally,  after  having  extended  to  eighteen 
numbers,  is  concluded  on  the  8th  of  April.  The  resolu 
tions  of  General  Smith,  for  the  abrogation  of  discrim 
inating  duties,  laid  before  Congress  in  the  same  winter, 


820  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

were  published  without  comment,  but  a  few  days  after 
wards  they  were  made  the  subject  of  a  carefully  written 
animadversion,  continued  through  several  numbers  of 
that  paper. 

Mr.  Coleman  had  no  skill  as  a  manager  of  property ; 
he  took  little  thought  for  the  morrow;  when  he  hap 
pened  to  have  any  money,  it  was  spent  freely,  or  given 
away,  or  somebody  who  would  never  return  it  contrived 
to  borrow  it.  In  a  short  time  the  finances  of  the  Even 
ing  Post  became  greatly  confused  and  embarrassed. 
From  its  first  appearance,  the  journal  bore,  in  a  card  at 
the  bottom  of  its  final  column,  the  name  of  Michael 
Burnham,  as  the  printer  and  publisher  ;  he  had,  how 
ever,  no  property  in  the  paper.  Mr.  Burnham  was  a 
young  printer  from  Hartford,  in  Connecticut,  a  man  of 
sense,  probity,  and  decision,  industrious  and  frugal,  with 
an  excellent  capacity  for  business  ;  in  short,  he  was  just 
such  a  man  as  every  newspaper  ought  to  have  among 
its  proprietors,  in  order  to  insure  its  prosperity.  The 
friends  of  Mr.  Coleman  saw  the  importance  of  associat 
ing  Mr.  Burnham  with  him  in  the  ownership  of  the 
paper,  and  negotiations  were  opened  for  the  purpose. 
The  result  was,  that  the  entire  control  of  the  finances  of 
the  Evening  Post  was  placed  in  Mr.  Burnham's  hands, 
under  such  regulations  as  were  prescribed  in  the  ar 
ticles  of  copartnership.  From  that  time  the  affairs  of 
the  journal  became  prosperous ;  it  began  to  yield  a  re 
spectable  revenue  ;  Mr.  Coleman  was  relieved  from  his 
pecuniary  embarrassments,  and  Mr.  Burnham  began  to 
grow  rich.  He  died  in  the  beginning  of  1836,  worth 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  acquired  partly  by  his 
prudent  management  of  the  concerns  of  the  paper, 
and  partly  by  the  rise  in  the  value  of  real  estate.  Mr. 


APPENDIX.  321 

Coleman  died  in  1829,  worth,  perhaps,  a  quarter  of  that 
sura. 

The  Evening  Post,  until  the  close  of  the  second  war 
with  Great  Britain,  was  a  prominent  and  leading  journal 
of  the   federal  party.     It  took  its  share  in  the  heated 
discussions  of   the    non-intercourse    law,    the    embargo, 
and,  finally,  the  justice  of  our  war  with  Great  Britain, 
and  the  wisdom  with  which  it  was  managed.     On  the 
question  of   cooperating  with   the  government  in  that 
war,  the  New  York  federalists  differed  with  those  of 
New  England  ;  they  held  that  when  the  country  was  once 
engaged  in  a  war,  the  citizen  could  not  rightfully  take 
any  step  to  obstruct  its  prosecution,  but  must  give  the 
common  cause  his  cheerful  aid  and  support  till  peace 
should  be  made.     When  the  New  England  States  held 
their  Convention  at  Hartford,  the  New  York  federalists 
refused  to  send  delegates,  and  their  refusal  was  sustained 
by  the  Evening  Post.     Mr.  Coleman,  however,  went  to 
Hartford  on  that  occasion,  as  an  observer.     We  recol 
lect   that,    some    years    afterwards,   in    his  journal,  he 
taunted  Theodore  Dwight,  then  editor  of  the  Daily  Ad 
vertiser,  in  this  city,  with  having  been  the  Secretary  of 
the   Hartford  Convention.      Mr.   Dwight  replied    that 
his  accuser  was  also  a  participator  in  the  doings  of  that 
body,  and  spoke  of  his  presence  there  as  the  representa 
tive  of  the  New  York  federalists.     Against  this  imputa 
tion,  Mr.  Coleman  defended  himself  with  warmth,  and 
in  his  usual  frank  and  sincere  manner  stated  very  mi 
nutely  the  object  and  circumstances  of  his  visit.     From 
this  narrative,  his  ingenious  adversary,  who  would  other 
wise  have  had  little  to  say,  contrived,  by  a  skillful  selec 
tion  of  expressions   and  circumstances,  to  make  out  a 
plausible  though  by  no  means  a  fair  case  against  him. 


322  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

About  the  year  1819,  the  health  of  Mr.  Coleman  was 
seriously  affected  by  a  paralytic  attack.  Until  then  he 
had  found  no  occasion  for  a  coadjutor  in  his  labors  as 
an  editor.  Several  slighter  shocks  followed  ;  his  lower 
limbs  became  gradually  weak  and  unmanageable,  until 
he  was  wholly  unable  to  walk  without  support.  Differ 
ent  assistants  were  called  in  from  time  to  time,  but  they 
were  again  dismissed  as  soon  as  Mr.  Coleman  was  able 
to  be  in  his  chair.  It  was  while  he  was  in  this  condi 
tion  that  an  affair  took  place  which  was  thought  by  his 
friends  to  have  greatly  impaired  his  health.  A  person 
named  Hagerman,  holding  a  public  office,  had  been 
guilty  of  some  improper  conduct  at  one  or  two  hotels  in 
the  interior  of  the  State.  The  story  was  a  nauseous  one, 
but  Mr.  Coleman,  thinking  that  such  behavior  deserved 
public  exposure,  gave  it  with  all  its  particulars  in  his 
sheet-  Hagerman  was  furiously  enraged,  and  having  no 
other  answer  to  make,  watched  his  opportunity,  while 
Mr.  Coleman  was  driving  to  his  office  in  a  little  wagon, 
fell  upon  him  with  a  cane,  and  beat  him  so  severely 
that  he  was  obliged  to  keep  his  room  for  a  considerable 
time. 

About  this  time  it  was  said  that  a  remedy  had  been 
discovered  for  the  hydrophobia  in  the  herb  called  skull 
cap,  a  species  of  scutellaria,  so  named  from  the  peculiar 
shape  of  its  seed  vessels,  resembling  a  plain  close-fitting 
cap  for  the  head.  The  Evening  Post  took  great  pain-s 
to  bring  the  subject  before  the  public,  collected  examples 
of  the  virtues  of  the  plant,  and  insisted  on  its  efficacy  so 
frequently  and  with  such  warmth  as  to  occasion  some 
jokes  at  its  expense. 

This  period  of  the  existence  of  the  Evening  Post  was 
illuminated  by  the  appearance  of  the  poems  of  Halleck 


APPENDIX.  323 

arid  Drake  in  its  columns,  under  the  signatures  of 
Croaker,  and  Croaker  &  Co.,  in  which  the  fashions  and 
follies,  and  sometimes  the  politicians  of  the  day,  were 
made  the  subjects  of  a  graceful  and  good-natured  ridi 
cule.  The  numbers  containing  these  poems  were  eagerly 
sought  for  ;  the  town  laughed,  the  subjects  of  the  satire 
laughed  in  chorus,  and  all  thought  them  the  best  things 
of  the  kind  that  were  ever  written  ;  nor  were  they  far 
wrong.  At  a  subsequent  period  within  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  another  poem,  which,  though  under  a  dif 
ferent  signature,  might  be  called  the  epilogue  to  the 
Croakers,  was  contributed  by  Mr.  Halleck  to  the  paper. 
It  was  addressed  to  the  Honorable  Richard  Riker,  Re 
corder,  better  known  as  Dick  Riker.  This  poem,  with 
the  marks  of  a  riper  intellect,  is  as  witty  as  the  best  of 
the  Croakers. 

In  the  fusion  of  parties  which  took  place  after  the 
second  war  with  Great  Britain,  the  Evening  Post  lost 
somewhat  of  its  decided  federal  character.  When  a 
successor  to  Mr.  Monroe  was  to  be  elected  to  the  Pres 
idency  of  the  United  States,  the  Evening  Post  sup 
ported  the  claims  of  Mr.  Crawford.  No  choice,  as  our 
readers  know,  was  made  by  the  people,  and  the  election 
devolved  upon  the  House  of  Representatives,  who  con 
ferred  the  office  upon  Mr.  Adams. 

It  was  in  the  year  1826,  a  quarter  of  a  century 
from  the  first  issue  of  the  Evening  Post,  that  William 
C.  Bryant,  now  one  of  its  conductors,  began  to  write  for 
its  columns.  At  that  time  the  population  of  New  York 
had  grown  from  sixty  thousand,  its  enumeration  in 
1801,  to  a  hundred  and  eighty  thousand.  The  space 
covered  with  houses  had  extended  a  little  beyond  Canal 
Street,  and  on  each  side  of  Broadway  a  line  of  dwell- 


324  WILLIAM    CULLEN  BRYANT. 

ings,  with  occasional  vacant  spaces,  had  crept  up  as  far 
as  Fourth  Street.  Preparations  were  making  to  take 
up  the  monuments  in  the  Potter's  field,  now  the  site  of 
Washington  Square,  and  fill  it  up  to  the  level  of  Fourth 
Street.  Workmen  were  employed  in  opening  the  street 
now  called  St.  Mark's  Place,  and  a  dusty  avenue  had 
just  been  made  through  the  beautiful  farm  of  the  old 
Governor  Stuyvesant,  then  possessed  by  his  descendants. 
The  sheet  of  the  Evening  Post  had  been  somewhat 
enlarged,  the  number  of  its  advertisements  had  been 
doubled  since  its  first  appearance,  they  were  more 
densely  printed,  and  two  columns  of  them  were  steam 
boat  advertisements.  But  the  eye,  in  running  over  a 
sheet  of  the  Evening  Post  printed  at  that  time,  misses 
the  throng  of  announcements  of  public  amusements, 
lectures,  concerts,  and  galleries  of  pictures,  that  now 
solicit  the  reader's  attention ;  the  elaborately  displayed 
advertisements  of  the  rival  booksellers,  of  whom  there 
are  now  several  houses,  any  one  of  which  publishes 
yearly  a  greater  number  of  works  than  all  the  book 
sellers  of  New  York  then  did ;  the  long  lists  of  com 
mercial  agencies  and  expresses,  and  the  perpendicular 
rows  of  cuts  of  ships,  steamboats,  and  railway  engines 
which  now  darken  the  pages  of  our  daily  sheet. 

The  Evening  Post  at  that  time  was  much  occupied 
with  matters  of  local  interest,  the  sanitary  condition  of 
the  city,  the  state  of  its  streets,  its  police,  its  regulations 
of  various  kinds,  in  all  which  its  conductors  took  great 
interest.  There  was  little  of  personal  controversy  at 
that  time  in  its  columns. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Mr.  Coleman  at  that 
period  of  his  life  was  remarkable.  He  was  of  a  full 
make,  with  a  broad  chest,  muscular  arms,  which  he 


APPENDIX.  325 

wielded  lightly  and  easily,  and  a  deep-toned  voice ;  but 
his  legs  dangled  like  strings.  He  expressed  himself  in 
conversation  with  fluency,  energy,  and  decision,  partic 
ularly  when  any  subject  was  started  in  which  he  had 
taken  an  interest  in  former  years.  When,  however,  he 
came  at  that  period  of  his  life  to  write  for  the  press,  he 
had  the  habit  of  altering  his  first  draught  in  a  manner 
to  diminish  its  force,  by  expletives  and  qualifying  expres 
sions.  He  never  altered  to  condense  and  strengthen, 
but  almost  always  to  dilute  and  weaken. 

Immediately  after  Mr.  Bryant  became  connected  with 
the  Evening  Post,  it  began  to  agitate  the  question  of 
free  trade.  The  next  year  he  became  one  of  the  pro 
prietors  of  the  paper.  Mr.  Coleman  and  Mr.  Burnham, 
who  desired  to  avail  themselves  of  the  activity  and 
energy  of  younger  minds,  offered  at  the  same  time  a 
share  in  the  paper  to  Robert  C.  Sands,  a  man  of  wit 
and  learning,  whose  memory  is  still  tenderlv  cherished 
by  numbers  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  know  him 
personally.  He  entertained  it  favorably  at  first,  but 
finally  declined  it.  A  majority  of  both  Houses  of  Con 
gress  were  in  favor  of  protective  duties,  and  the  Even 
ing  Post,  at  that  time,  was  the  only  journal  north  of 
the  Potomac  which  attempted  to  controvert  them.  In 
the  northern  part  of  the  Union,  it  was  only  in  certain 
towns  on  the  seacoast  that  a  few  friends  of  a  freer  com 
mercial  system  were  found  ;  the  people  of  the  interior 
of  the  Atlantic  States  and  the  entire  population  of  the 
West  seemed  to  acquiesce,  without  a  scruple,  in  the 
policy  of  high  duties.  The  question  of  modifying  the 
tariff,  so  as  to  make  it  more  highly  protective,  was 
brought  up  before  Congress  in  the  winter  of  1828,  and 
on  the  19th  of  May  following,  a  bill  prepared  for  that 


326  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYAKT. 

purpose  became  a  law.  It  was  warmly  opposed  in  the 
Evening  Post,  and  the  course  of  Mr.  Webster,  who  had 
formerly  spoken  with  great  ability  against  protection, 
but  who  had  now  taken  his  place  among  its  supporters, 
was  animadverted  upon  with  some  severity.  That 
gentleman,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Coleman,  justified  his  con 
duct  by  saying  that  the  protective  system  was  now  the 
established  policy  of  the  country,  and  that  taking  things 
as  they  were,  he  had  only  endeavored  to  make  this  sys 
tem  as  perfect  and  as  equally  beneficial  to  every  quar 
ter  of  the  Union  as  was  possible. 

In  contending  against  the  doctrine  of  protection,  the 
Evening  Post  gradually  fell  into  a  position  of  hostility 
to  the  administration  of  Mr.  Adams,  by  which  that 
doctrine  was  zealously  maintained.  In  the  election  of 
1828,  it  took  the  field  in  favor  of  the  nomination  of 
General  Jackson,  who  had  declared  himself  in  favor  of 
a  "judicious  tariff,"  by  which  his  friends  understood  a 
mitigation  of  the  existing  duties.  Mr.  Coleman  lived 
to  see  the  triumph  of  his  party,  and  to  hear  the  cheers 
of  the  exulting  multitude  at  his  door.  In  the  summer 
following,  the  summer  of  1829,  he  was  cut  off  by  an 
apoplectic  stroke.  William  Leggett,  who  had  earned  a 
reputation  for  talent  and  industry  by  his  conduct  of  the 
Critic,  a  weekly  journal,  several  of  the  last  numbers  of 
which  were  written  entirely  by  himself,  put  in  type  with 
his  own  hand,  and  delivered  by  himself  to  the  sub 
scribers,  was  immediately  employed  as  an  assistant 
editor.  He  only  stipulated  that  he  should  not  be  asked 
to  write  articles  on  political  subjects,  on  which  he  had 
no  settled  opinions,  and  for  which  he  had  no  taste  —  a 
dispensation  which  was  readily  granted.  Before  this 
year  was  out,  however,  he  found  himself  a  zealous 


APPENDIX.  327 

democrat,  and  an  ardent  friend  of  free  trade,  and  in 
the  year  1830  became  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the 
paper. 

Mr.  Leggett  was  a  man  of  middle  stature,  but  com 
pact  frame,  great  power  of  endurance,  and  a  constitu 
tion  naturally  strong,  though  somewhat  impaired  by  an 
attack  of  the  yellow  fever  while  on  board  the  United 
States  squadron  in  the  West  Indies.  He  was  fond  of 
study,  and  delighted  to  trace  principles  to  their  remotest 
consequences,  whither  he  was  always  willing  to  follow 
them.  The  quality  of  courage  existed  in  him  almost 
to  excess,  and  he  took  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  bearding 
public  opinion.  He  wrote  with  surprising  fluency,  and 
often  with  eloquence,  took  broad  views  of  the  questions 
that  came  before  him,  and  possessed  the  faculty  of 
rapidly  arranging  the  arguments  which  occurred  to  him 
in  clear  order,  and  stating  them  persuasively. 

The  acts  of  General  Jackson's  administration  brought 
up  the  question  of  the  power  of  the  federal  government  to 
make  public  roads  within  the  limits  of  the  different  States, 
and  the  question  of  renewing  the  charter  of  the  United 
States  Bank.  With  what  zeal  he  was  supported  by  the 
Evening  Post,  in  his  disapproval  of  the  works  of  "  internal 
improvement,"  as  they  were  called,  sanctioned  by  Con 
gress,  and  in  his  steady  refusal  to  sign  the  bills  presented 
to  him  for  continuing  the  United  States  Bank  in  ex 
istence,  many  of  our  readers  doubtless  remember.  The 
question  of  national  roads,  after  some  sharp  controversy, 
was  disposed  of  finally,  perhaps,  and  forever  ;  the  con 
test  for  the  existence  of  the  National  Bank  was  longer 
and  more  stubborn,  but  the  popular  voice  decided  it,  at 
last,  in  favor  of  the  President. 

The  first  sign  of  a  disposition  in  the  country  to  relax 


828  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

the  protective  policy  was  given  in  General  Jackson's 
administration,  when  the  law  of  1832,  sometimes  called 
the  compromise  tariff,  was  passed,  providing  for  the 
gradual  reduction  of  the  duties,  on  all  imported  goods, 
to  the  rate  of  twenty  per  cent,  on  their  value.  Mr. 
McLane,  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  had  proposed 
a  somewhat  reduced  tariff,  in  his  annual  report,  and 
Mr.  Verplanck,  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  had 
introduced  a  bill  on  a  still  more  liberal  basis.  The  com 
promise  swept  them  both  away  ;  but  the  compromise  was 
welcomed  by  the  friends  of  free  trade  in  the  Union,  as 
indicative  of  a  great  revolution  in  public  opinion,  and 
as  a  virtual  abandonment  of  the  protective  policy.  Since 
that  time,  the  doctrines  of  commercial  liberty,  so  early 
espoused  by  the  Evening  Post,  have  been  making 
gradual  progress,  till  they  are  professed  by  large  ma 
jorities  in  many  parts  of  the  North,  and  have  pervadad 
almost  the  entire  West. 

Those  who  recollect  what  occurred  when  General 
Jackson  withdrew  the  funds  of  the  government  from  the 
Bank  of  the  United  States,  a  measure  known  by  the 
name  of  the  removal  of  the  deposits,  cannot  have  for 
gotten  to  what  a  pitch  party  hatred  was  then  carried. 
It  was  a  sort  of  fury ;  nothing  like  it  had  been  known 
in  this  community  for  twenty  years,  and  there  has  been 
nothing  like  it  since.  Men  of  different  parties  could 
hardly  look  at  each  other  without  gnashing  their  teeth ; 
deputations  were  sent  to  Congress  to  remonstrate  with 
General  Jackson,  and  some  even  talked  —  of  course  it 
was  mere  talk,  but  it  showed  the  height  of  passion  to 
which  men  were  transported  —  of  marching  in  arms  to 
the  seat  of  government  and  putting  down  the  adminis 
tration.  A  brief  panic  took  possession  of  the  money 


APPENDIX.  329 

market ;  many  worthy  men  really  believed  that  the 
business  and  trade  of  the  country  were  in  danger  of 
coming  to  an  end,  and  looked  for  a  universal  ruin.  In 
this  tempest  the  Evening  Post  stood  its  ground,  vindi 
cated  the  administration  in  its  change  of  agents,  on 
the  ground  that  the  United  States  Bank  was  unsafe  and 
unworthy,  and  derided  both  the  threats  and  the  fears  of 
the  whigs. 

In  June,  1834,  Mr.  Bryant  sailed  for  Europe,  leav 
ing  Mr.  Leggett  sole  conductor  of  the  Evening  Post. 
Mr.  Bnrnham  had  previously  withdrawn  as  a  proprietor, 
substituting  his  son  in  his  place.  The  battle  between  the 
friends  and  enemies  of  the  Bank  proceeded  with  little 
diminution  of  virulence,  but  the  panic  had  passed  away. 
The  Evening  Post  was  led  by  the  discussion  of  the 
Bank  question  to  inquire  into  the  propriety  of  allowing 
the  state  banks  to  exist  as  monopolies,  with  peculiar 
powers  and  prerogatives  not  enjoved  by  individuals.  It 
demanded  a  general  banking  law,  which  should  place  on 
an  equal  footing  every  person  desirous  of  engaging  in 
the  business  of  banking.  It  attacked  the  patronage  of 
the  federal  executive,  and  insisted  that  the  postmasters 
should  be  chosen  by  the  people  in  the  neighborhoods  to 
which  they  ministered.  A  system  of  oppressive  inspec 
tion  laws  had  gradually  grown  up  in  the  State,  —  tobacco 
was  inspected,  flour  was  inspected,  beef  and  pork  were 
inspected,  and  a  swarm  of  creatures  of  the  state  gov 
ernment  was  called  into  being,  who  subsisted  by  fees 
exacted  from  those  who  bought  and  sold.  Nobody  was 
allowed  to  purchase  an  uninspected  and  untaxed  barrel 
of  flour,  or  an  uninspected  and  untaxed  plug  of  tobacco. 
The  Evening  Post  renewed  its  attacks  on  the  abuse, 
which  had  previously  been  denounced  in  its  columns,  and 


330  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

called  for  the  entire  abrogation  of  the  whole  code  of 
inspection  laws.  The  call  was  answered  some  years 
afterwards,  when  the  subject  was  taken  up  in  earnest 
by  the  legislature,  and  the  system  broken  up. 

Meantime,  another  question  had  arisen.  The  Wash 
ington  Telegraph  had  procured  printed  reports  of  the 
Abolition  Society,  in  New  York,  then  a  small  body,  and 
little  known  to  the  public,  and  extracting  the  most  offen 
sive  passages,  held  them  up  to  the  people  of  the  South 
as  proofs  of  a  deliberate  design  on  the  part  of  the  North 
to  deprive  the  planters  of  their  slaves,  without  their 
consent  and  without  remuneration.  Other  extracts  fol 
lowed  from  day  to  day,  with  similar  inflammatory  com 
ments,  till  at  length  the  Southern  blood  took  fire,  and  the 
Southern  merchants  began  to  talk  of  ceasing  to  trade 
with  New  York.  The  New  York  commercial  commu 
nity  disclaimed  all  sympathy  with  the  abolitionists,  and 
to  prove  its  sincerity,  began  to  disturb  their  meetings. 
From  slight  disturbances  the  transition  was  easy  to 
frightful  riots,  and  several  of  these,  in  which  the  genteel 
mob  figured  conspicuously,  occurred  in  the  year  1835, 
at  different  places  within  the  State.  The  meetings  of 
the  abolitionists  were  broken  up,  their  houses  were 
mobbed,  and  Arthur  Tappan  was  obliged,  for  a  while, 
to  leave  the  city,  where  his  person  was  not  safe.  The 
Evening  Post  at  first  condemned  the  riots,  and  vindi 
cated  the  right  of  assembling,  and  the  right  of  speech. 
As  the  mob  grew  more  lawless,  it  took  bolder  ground, 
and  insisted  that  the  evil  and  the  wrong  of  slavery  were 
so  great  that  the  abolitionists  were  worthy  of  praise  and 
sympathy  .in  striving  for  its  extinction.  It  rang  this 
doctrine  from  day  to  day  in  the  ears  of  the  rioters  and 
their  abettors,  and  confronted  and  defied  their  utmost 


APPENDIX.  331 

malice.  No  offer  was  made,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  ex 
citement,  to  mob  the  office  of  this  paper. 

During  Mr.  Bryant's  absence  in  Europe,  the  interest 
of  the  younger  Burnham  was  purchased  for  his  two 
associates,  who  thus  became  the  sole  proprietors. 

In  October,  1835,  Mr.  Leggett  became  seriously  ill ; 
he  returned  to  his  labors  after  a  short  interval ;  but  a 
relapse  came  on,  and  confined  him  to  a  sick  room  for 
months.  Mr.  Bryant  returned  in  the  spring  of  1836 
from  Europe,  and  found  him  still  an  invalid,  the  edi 
torial  chair  being  ably  filled,  for  the  time,  by  Charles 
Mason,  since  distinguished  as  a  lawyer  in  Iowa.  He 
resumed  his  labors,  and  engaged  in  the  controversy  re 
specting  the  state  banks,  which  was  then  at  its  height, 
and  which  continued  to  agitate  the  community  till  the 
adoption  of  a  general  banking  law  by  the  State,  and  of 
the  independent  treasury  scheme  by  the  federal  govern 
ment. 

In  the  month  of  June,  1836,  an  attempt  was  made  in 
different  parts  of  the  State  to  compel  journeymen  to  re 
frain  from  entering  into  any  understanding  with  each 
other  in  regard  to  the  wages  they  would  demand  of 
their  employers.  Twelve  journeymen  tailors  were  in 
dicted  in  this  city  for  the  crime  of  refusing  to  work, 
except  for  a  certain  compensation,  and  a  knot  of  journey 
men  shoemakers  at  Hudson.  In  this  city.  Judge  Ed 
wards,  —  Ogden  Edwards,  —  and  at  Hudson,  Judge 
Savage,  laid  down  the  law  against  the  accused,  pro 
nouncing  their  conduct  a  criminal  conspiracy,  worthy  of 
condign  punishment.  The  Evening  Post  took  up  the 
charge  of  Judge  Edwards  almost  as  soon  as  it  fell 
from  his  lips,  and  showed  its  inconsistency  with  the 
plainest  principles  of  personal  freedom,  with  the  spirit 


332  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

of  all  our  institutions  and  laws,  and  with  the  rule  by 
which  we  allow  all  employers  and  purchasers  to  regulate 
their  transactions.  The  other  journals  of  the  city  took 
a  different  view  of  the  question,  but  the  doctrine  main 
tained  by  the  Evening  Post  commended  itself  to  the 
public  mind,  and  is  now  the  prevailing  and  universal 
one. 

In  October  of  the  same  year,  Mr.  Leggett,  after  a 
sojourn  of  some  months  in  the  country,  returned  to  his 
office  with  his  health  in  part  restored.  His  return  led 
to  an  examination  of  the  finances  of  the  Evening  Post, 
which  had  suffered  very  much  during  his  illness.  Its 
circulation,  though  lessened,  was  still  respectable,  but  its 
advertising  list  was  greatly  diminished,  and  its  income 
was  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  what  it  had  been.  Some 
of  its  friends  had  been  alienated  by  the  vehemence  with 
which  the  journal  had  attacked  slavery  and  its  defend 
ers.  The  proprietors  of  steamboats  and  ships,  and  those 
who  had  houses  to  let,  had  withdrawn  their  advertise 
ments,  because  no  cuts,  designed  to  attract  the  atten 
tion  of  the  reader,  were  allowed  a  place  in  its  columns. 
Mr.  Leggett.  with  an  idea  of  improving  the  appearance 
of  his  daily  sheet,  had  rigidly  excluded  them. 

This  examination  ended  in  the  retirement  of  Mr. 
Leggett  from  the  paper.  He  established  a  weekly  sheet, 
the  Plaindealer,  which  he  conducted  for  about  a  year 
with  great  ability,  and  which,  but  for  the  failure  of  his 
publisher,  would  have  been  highly  successful,  as  was 
evident  from  the  rapid  increase  of  its  circulation  so  long 
as  it  was  published. 

About  the  close  of  the  year,  two  passenger  ships  from 
Europe,  the  Mexico  and  the  Bristol,  were  wrecked  at 
the  mouth  of  the  New  York  harbor,  covering  the  shore 


APPENDIX.  333 

with  corpses.  The  Evening  Post  showed  that  this  dis 
aster  arose  from  the  negligence  of  the  New  York  pilots, 
who  were  unwisely  allowed  a  monopoly  of  the  business, 
and  joined  with  the  mercantile  community  in  demand 
ing  such  a  change  as  should  subject  them  to  the  whole 
some  influence  of  competition.  The  change  was  made 
in  the  same  winter. 

We  have  mentioned  the  short  panic  of  1834.  It  was 
followed  by  a  season  of  extravagant  confidence,  and  of 
delirious  speculation,  encouraged  by  all  the  banks,  — 
that  of  Mr.  Biddle  and  the  deposit  banks  cooperating 
in  a  mad  rivalry,  —  a  season  such  as  the  country  had 
never  seen  before.  It  might  sound  like  a  vain  boast 
of  superior  discernment  to  say  that  the  Evening  Post 
insisted,  all  along,  that  the  apparent  prosperity  of  the 
country  was  but  temporary,  that  its  end  was  close  at 
hand,  and  that  it  would  be  followed  by  a  general  col 
lapse  and  by  universal  distress  —  but  it  is  nevertheless 
true,  and  as  we  are  writing  the  history  of  our  journal, 
it  must  be  said.  The  crash  came  quite  as  soon  as  the  most 
far-sighted  had  anticipated,  and  thousands  were  ruined  ; 
the  banks  stopped  payment,  and  the  Legislature  of  New 
York,  in  a  fright,  passed  a  sort  of  stop  law  in  their  favor, 
absolving  them  from  the  engagement  to  pay  their  notes 
in  specie. 

It  was  shortly  before  this  collapse,  in  the  year  1837, 
that  Nathaniel  P.  Tallrnadge,  a  senator  in  Congress, 
from  this  State,  gave  the  country  his  famous  speech  on 
the  credit  system,  the  object  of  which  was  to  justify  the 
practices  of  the  banks  at  that  time,  and  of  those  to 
whom  the  banks  furnished  the  means  for  their  specula 
tions.  His  eulogy  of  the  credit  system  was  attacked  in 
the  Evening  Post ;  he  replied  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who 


304  WILL/AM  CULL  EX  BRYANT. 

had  been  wronged  ;  he  was  answered ;  his  friends  got  up 
a  letter,  signed  by  several  hundred  democrats,  certify 
ing  to  the  political  orthodoxy  of  Mr.  Tallmadge  and  his 
credit  system  ;  the  Evening  Post  attacked  both  the  letter 
and  its  signers.  Mr.  Tallmadge  struggled  a  little  while 
longer  to  maintain  his  place  in  the  democratic  party, 
and  then  sought  a  temporary  refuge  among  the  whigs. 
At  that  time,  the  Times,  a  democratic  morning  paper, 
in  the  interest  of  Mr.  Tallmadge  and  his  friends,  was 
published  in  the  city.  The  Evening  Post  had  occasion 
to  allude  to  the  men  who  made  the  Times  their  instru 
ment.  The  editor  of  the  paper,  one  Dr.  Holland,  since 
dead,  who  had  some  skil]  in  turning  a  paragraph,  wrote 
a  note  to  Mr.  Bryant,  informing  him  that  he  was  the 
proprietor  of  the  newspaper,  and  that  it  spoke  his  opin 
ions,  and  those  of  no  one  else,  and  demanded  that  jus 
tice  should  be  done  him  in  this  respect.  He  received 
a  reply  with  which  he  was  not  satisfied,  and  failing  to 
obtain  any  other,  he  sent  a  challenge  to  Mr.  Bryant,  by 
a  friend,  who  was  authorized  to  make  the  due  arrange 
ments  for  the  meeting. 

It  has  already  been  seen  how  great,  in  the  first  years 
of  this  journal,  was  the  force  of  custom  among  a  certain 
class  of  the  New  York  population  in  keeping  up  the 
practice  of  dueling.  In  the  thirty  years  which  had 
since  elapsed,  it  had  grown  obsolete,  and  even  ridiculous. 
Only  very  hare-brained  young  men.  and  sometimes  offi 
cers  of  the  navy,  ever  sent  or  accepted  a  challenge  to 
the  field,  and  it  no  longer  required  any  firmness  to  de 
cline  one.  Mr.  Bryant  treated  the  matter  very  lightly  ; 
he  put  the  challenge  in  his  pocket,  and  told  the  bearer 
that  everything  must  take  its  proper  turn,  that  Dr. 
Holland,  having  already  been  called  a  scoundrel  by  Mr. 


APPENDIX.  335 

Leggett,  must  give  that  affair  the  precedence,  and  that 
for  his  own  part,  he  should  pay  no  further  attention  to 
the  matter  in  hand  till  that  was  settled.  The  affair 
passed  off  without  other  consequences. 

Meantime,  no  means  were  left  untried  to  hring  back 
the  paper  to  its  former  prosperous  condition.  William 
G.  Boggs,  a  practical  printer,  and  a  man  of  much  ac 
tivity,  was  taken  into  the  concern,  first  with  a  contingent 
interest,  and,  in  1837,  as  a  proprietor.  The  figures  of 
steamboats,  ships,  and  houses  were  restored  to  its  col 
umns,  and  nothing  omitted  which  it  was  thought  would 
attract  advertisers.  They  came  with  some  shyness  at 
first,  but  at  last  readily  and  in  great  numbers.  It  re 
quired  some  time  to  arrest  the  decline  of  the  paper,  and 
still  more  to  make  it  move  in  the  desired  direction,  but 
when  once  it  felt  the  impulse,  it  advanced  rapidly  to  its 
former  prosperity. 

The  book  press  of  the  country,  about  this  time,  had 
begun  to  pour  forth  cheap  reprints  of  European  publica 
tions  with  astonishing  fertility.  Few  works  but  those 
of  English  authors  were  read,  inasmuch  as  the  pub 
lisher,  having  nothing  to  pay  for  copyright  to  the  foreign 
author,  could  afford  to  sell  an  English  work  far  cheaper 
than  an  American  one  written  with  the  same  degree  of 
talent  arid  attractiveness.  The  Evening  Post  was  early 
on  the  side  of  those  who  demanded  that  some  remedy 
should  be  applied  to  this  unequal  operation  of  our  copy 
right  laws,  which  had  the  effect  of  expelling  the  Ameri 
can  author  from  the  book  market.  It  placed  no  stress, 
however,  on  the  scheme  of  an  international  copyright 
law,  as  it  has  been  called,  but  consistently  with  its  course 
on  all  commercial  questions  insisted  that  if  literary  prop 
erty  is  to  be  recognized  by  our  laws,  it  ought  to  be 


336  WILLIAM  CULL  EN  BRYANT. 

recognized  in  all  cities  alike,  without  regard  to  the  legis 
lation  of  other  countries  ;  that  the  author  who  is  not 
naturalized  deserves  to  be  protected  in  its  enjoyment 
equally  with  the  citizen  of  our  republic,  and  that  to 
possess  ourselves  of  his  books  simply  because  he  is  a 
stranger  is  as  gross  an  inhospitality  as  if  we  denied  his 
right  to  his  baggage,  or  the  wares  which  he  might  bring 
from  abroad  to  dispose  of  in  our  market. 

The  public  mind,  in  the  course  of  a  short  time,  seemed 
to  be  perfectly  prepared  for  a  change  in  the  copyright 
laws,  abolishing  any  unequal  distinctions  in  the  right 
of  property,  founded  on  birth  or  citizenship.  The  pub 
lishers  and  booksellers,  who  had  at  first  been  unfavor 
able  to  the  measure,  were  at  length  brought  to  give  it 
their  assent,  but  the  members  of  Congress  were  not 
ready.  They  did  not  understand  the  question,  nor  did 
nine  in  ten  of  them  care  to  understand  it.  No  party 
purpose  was  to  be  served  by  studying  it,  or  supporting 
any  measure  connected  with  it;  no  disadvantage  was 
likely  to  arise  to  either  party  from  neglecting  it ;  and 
for  this  reason,  more  we  believe  than  any  other,  the  sub 
ject  has  been  untouched  by  our  legislators  to  this  day. 
It  is  observed  that  politicians  by  profession  are  very  apt 
to  yawn  whenever  it  is  mentioned. 

The  dispute  between  the  friends  of  the  credit  system, 
as  they  called  themselves,  and  their  adversaries  con 
tinued  till  the  scheme  of  making  the  government  the 
keeper  of  its  own  funds,  instead  of  placing  them  in  the 
banks,  to  be  made  the  basis  of  discounts,  was  adopted 
by  Congress.  For  this  measure,  which  is  now  very 
generally  acknowledged  by  men  of  all  parties  to  have 
been  one  of  the  wisest  ever  taken  by  the  federal  govern 
ment,  and  perhaps  more  wholesome  in  its  effect  on  the 


APPENDIX.  337 

money  market  than  any  other  adopted  before  or  since, 
the  country  is  indebted  to  Mr.  Van  Buren's  administra 
tion,  and  to  those  who  sustained  it  against  the  credit 
party.  The  Evening  Post  was  one  of  the  very  earliest 
in  the  field  among  the  champions  of  that  scheme,  and 
lent  such  aid  as  it  was  able  in  the  controversy. 

In  1840  it  was  engaged  in  the  unsuccessful  attempt 
to  reelect  Mr.  Van  Buren.  In  the  four  years  of  that 
gentleman's  administration,  nearly  all  the  disastrous  con 
sequences  of  the  reaction  from  the  speculations  of  the  four 
previous  years  were  concentrated.  He  and  his  friends 
applied  what  is  now  acknowledged  to  be  the  wisest  rem 
edy,  the  independent  treasury  scheme  ;  but  a  sufficient 
time  had  not  elapsed  to  experience  its  effects,  and  the 
friends  of  the  credit  system  everywhere  treated  it  as 
the  most  pernicious  quackery.  The  administration  of 
Mr.  Van  Buren  was  made  responsible  for  consequences 
\vhich  it  had  no  agency  in  producing,  and  General  Har 
rison  was  elected  to  the  Presidency. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  a  period  the  history  of  which, 
we  may  presume,  is  so  fresh  in  the  memory  of  our 
readers  that  we  need  give  no  very  circumstantial  nar 
rative  of  the  part  borne  in  the  controversies  of  the  time 
by  the  Evening  Post.  In  this  year,  Parke  Godwin,  who 
for  some  time  had  been  employed  as  an  assistant  on 
the  paper,  became  one  of  its  proprietors,  and  continued 
so  until  the  year  1844,  when  the  interest  he  held  was 
transferred  to  Timothy  A.  Howe,  a  practical  printer, 
who  has  ever  since  been  one  of  the  owners  of  the  con 
cern. 

In  the  year  1841  the  proprietors  began  to  issue  a 
Weekly  Evening  Post,  the  circulation  of  which  has  been 
regularly  increasing  to  the  present  moment.  A  Semi- 


338  WILL  I AM  CULLEN  BUY  AM'. 

Weekly  had  been  issued  from  the  earliest  establishment 
of  the  journal,  and  it  is  remarkable  that  the  popularity 
of  the  Weekly  has  seemed,  of  late,  to  attract  subscrip 
tions  to  the  Semi- Weekly  also. 

In  1841  the  subject  of  abolishing  the  punishment  of 
death  was  brought  up  in  the  New  York  Legislature,  by 
Mr.  O'Sullivan,  who  for  that  purpose  had  sought  an 
election  to  the  House  of  Assembly  as  a  delegate  from 
this  city,  and  who  prepared  an  excellent  report  giving  a 
full  statement  of  the  argument  for  its  abolition.  In  the 
following  winter  he  had  several  able  coadjutors  in  this 
cause,  among  whom  was  Major  Auguste  Davezac,  who 
had  studied  the  question  tfhder  the  teachings  of  Edward 
Livingston,  and  who,  though  a  native  of  a  French  col 
ony,  was  one  of  the  finest  declaimers  in  English  of  his 
time.  The  Evening  Post  took  a  decided  part  in  favor 
of  this  change  in  the  criminal  law  of  the  state,  a  change 
which  it  has  never  since  ceased  on  proper  occasions  tp 
urge,  on  the  ground  that  in  the  present  age  there  is  no 
longer  any  necessity  to  inflict  the  penalty  of  death,  and 
that  experience  has  shown  it  to  be  less  effectual  in  re 
straining  the  repetition  of  crimes  than  other  modes  of 
punishment.  The  legislature,  at  times,  seemed  half  per 
suaded  to  try  the  effect  of  putting  an  end  to  the  practice 
of  taking  life  by  sentence  of  law,  but  it  finally  shrunk 
from  the  responsibility  of  so  important  a  step. 

During  the  time  that  the  Executive  chair  was  filled 
by  Mr.  Tyler  —  for  General  Harrison  passed  so  soon 
from  his  inauguration  to  his  grave  that  his  name  will 
scarcely  be  noticed  in  history  —  several  of  the  questions 
which  formerly  divided  parties  were  revived.  The  ques 
tion  of  the  independent  treasury  had  to  be  debated  over 
again  ;  the  measure  was  repealed.  The  question  of  a 


APPENDIX.  339 

national  bank  came  up  again  in  Congress,  and  we  had  to 
fight  the  battle  a  second  time  ;  the  bill  for  creating  an 
institution  of  this  kind  presented  to  Mr.  Tyler  was  re 
fused  his  signature  and  defeated.  Mr.  Tyler,  however, 
had  a  dream  of  a  peculiar  national  bank  of  his  own  ; 
this  also  was  to  be  combatted.  The  compromise  of 
1832,  in  regard  to  duties  on  imported  goods,  was  set 
aside  by  Congress,  without  ceremony,  and  a  scheme  of 
high  duties  was  proposed  which  resulted  in  the  tariff  of 
1842.  Here,  also,  was  matter  for  controversy.  The 
question  of  admitting  Texas  into  the  Union,  which  had 
several  times  before  been  discussed  in  the  Evening  Post, 
was  brought  before  Congress.  It  was  warmly  opposed 
in  this  journal,  which  contended  that  if  Texas  was  to 
be  admitted  at  all,  a  negotiation  should  first  be  opened 
with  Mexico.  This  was  not  done,  but  the  result  has 
shown  that  such  a  course  would  have  been  far  the  wisest. 
The  eager  haste  to  snatch  Texas  into  the  Union  brought 
with  it  the  war  with  Mexico,  the  shedding  of  much 
blood,  large  conquests,  California,  and  those  dreadful 
quarrels  about  slavery  and  its  extension  which  have 
shaken  the  Union. 

It  is  unnecessary,  we  believe,  to  refer  to  the  part  taken 
by  the  Evening  Post  in  behalf  of  the  economical  policy 
which  in  1842  retrieved  the  credit  of  the  State  of  New 
York,  impaired  by  the  large  expenditures  for  public 
works  ;  nor  to  its  exertions  in  favor  of  such  an  altera 
tion  of  the  constitution,  as  should  incorporate  in  the 
constitution  of  the  State  an  effectual  check  upon  further 
extravagances.  That  was  soon  done  by  the  convention 
of  1848. 

In  1848  Mr.  Boggs  parted  with  his  interest  in  the 
Evening  Post  to  John  Bigelow  ;  and  William  J.  Tenney, 


340  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

who  had  been  for  some  time  past  the  able  and  useful 
assistant  of  Mr.  Bryant,  withdrew.  The  controversies 
which  have  since  arisen  are  yet  the  controversies  of  the 
day  ;  they  still  occupy  all  minds,  and  there  is  no  occa 
sion  to  speak  of  their  nature  nor  of  the  part  we  have 
taken  in  them. 

We  have  now  brought  our  narrative  down  to  the  pres 
ent  moment.  It  does  not  become  us  to  close  without 
some  expression  of  the  kindly  feeling  we  entertain  to 
wards  those  subscribers  —  for  there  are  still  a  few  of 
them  —  who  read  the  Evening  Post  in  1801,  and  who 
yet  read  it,  nor  to  those  —  and  there  are  many  such  — 
in  whose  families  it  is  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  heir 
loom,  and  who  have  received  a  partiality  for  it  as  an  in 
heritance  from  their  parents.  When  these  examples 
occur  to  our  minds,  we  are  consoled  for  the  occasional 
displeasure  and  estrangement  of  those  we  had  deemed 
our  friends  ;  and  we  think  of  our  journal  as  of  something 
solid,  permanent,  enduring. 

This  impression  is  strengthened  when  we  reflect  that 
in  the  mechanical  department  of  the  paper  are  men  who 
came  to  it  in  their  childhood,  before  any  of  the  present 
proprietors  of  the  paper  had  set  foot  within  the  office, 
and  are  employed  here  still,  —  worthy,  industrious,  and 
intelligent  men. 

An  experience  of  a  quarter  of  a  century  in  the  con 
duct  of  a  newspaper  should  suffice  to  give  one  a  pretty 
complete  idea  of  the  effect  of  journalism  upon  the  char 
acter.  It  is  a  vocation  which  gives  an  insight  into 
men's  motives,  and  reveals  by  what  influences  masses  of 
men  are  moved,  but  it  shows  the  dark  rather  than  the 
bright  side  of  human  nature,  and  one  who  is  not  dis 
posed  to  make  due  allowances  for  the  peculiar  circum- 


APPENDIX.  341 

stances  in  which  he  is  placed  is  apt  to  be  led  by  it  into 
the  mistake  that  the  large  majority  of  mankind  are 
knaves.  It  brings  one  perpetually  in  sight,  at  least,  of 
men  of  various  classes,  who  make  public  zeal  a  cover 
for  private  interest,  and  desire  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
influence  of  the  press  for  the  prosecution  of  their  own 
selfish  projects.  It  fills  the  mind  with  a  variety 'of 
knowledge  relating  to  the  events  of  the  day,  but  that 
knowledge  is  apt  to  be  superficial,  since  the  necessity 
of  attending  to  many  subjects  prevents  the  journalist 
from  thoroughly  investigating  any.  In  this  way  it 
begets  desultory  habits  of  thought,  disposing  the  mind 
to  be  satisfied  with  mere  glances  at  difficult  questions, 
and  to  dwell  only  upon  plausible  commonplaces.  The 
style  gains  by  it  in  clearness  and  fluency,  but  it  is  apt  to 
become,  in  consequence  of  much  and  hasty  writing, 
loose,  diffuse,  and  stuffed  with  local  barbarisms  and  the 
cant  phrases  of  the  day.  Its  worst  effect  is  the  strong 
temptation  which  it  sets  before  men,  to  betray  the  cause 
of  truth  to  public  opinion,  and  to  fall  in  with  what  are 
supposed  to  be  the  views  held  by  a  contemporaneous 
majority,  which  are  sometimes  perfectly  right  and  some 
times  grossly  wrong. 

To  such  temptations  we  hope  the  Evening  Post, 
whatever  may  have  been  its  course  in  other- respects, 
has  not  often  yielded.  Its  success  and  the  limits  to  its 
success  may  both,  perhaps,  be  owing  to  this  unaccom 
modating  and  insubservient  quality.  It  is  often  called 
upon,  by  a  sense  of  duty,  to  oppose  itself  to  the  general 
feeling  of  those  from  whom  a  commercial  paper  always 
must  receive  its  support ;  it  never  hesitates  to  do  so.  It 
sometimes  finds  a  powerful  member  of  that  community 
occupied  with  projects  which  it  deems  mischievous ;  it 


342  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

puts  itself  in  his  way,  and  frustrates  his  designs,  if  pos 
sible.  In  this  way  it  makes  bitter  enemies,  who  would 
break  it  down  if  they  could  ;  it  makes  also  warm 
friends,  by  whom  it  is  cordially  supported.  Its  pro 
prietors  are  satisfied  with  its  success  and  its  expecta 
tions.  For  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  it  has  been  the 
only  democratic  paper  which  could  subsist  in  New  York. 
Others  have  come  and  departed  like  shadows.  It  is  now 
well  appointed  in  all  its  departments,  and  has  as  fair  a 
prospect  of  surviving  to  another  century  as  it  had  at  any 
time  during  the  last  fifty  years  of  subsisting  to  this 
day. 


APPENDIX  B. 

BRYANT'S  WILL. 

I,  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT,  of  Roslyn,  in  Queens 
County,  Long  Island,  do  make  this  my  last  will  and  tes 
tament. 

1.  I  give  to  my  daughter  Fanny  Bryant  Godwin  the 
house  and  land  in  Roslyn  east  of  the  highway  where 
she  now  lives  with  her  family,  with  all  the  houses  and 
other  buildings  thereon. 

2.  Also  a  strip  of  land  west  of  the  said  highway  two 
rods  in  width,  to  be  taken  from  the  land  now  occupied 
by  me  at  said  Roslyn,  and  to  extend  from  the  highway 
to  the  water  of  Roslyn  harbor  as  far  as  I  own. 

3.  Also  all  the  land  and  buildings  adjoining  the  prem 
ises  now  occupied   by  my   said  daughter  Fanny  bought 
by  me  of  Stephen  Smith.     Also  all  the  Mudge  Farm 
owned  by  me,  including  the   land    and  buildings  now 
occupied  under  a  lease  by  Amy  Mudge  and  her  two 
nieces. 

4.  Also  all  my  lands  and  buildings  in  Roslyn  west  of 
the  highway  and  south  of  the  fence,  which  forms  the 
southern  boundary  of  the  premises  now  occupied  by  W. 
D.  Wilson  and  of  the  road  leading  to  his  house. 

5.  Also  the  little  piece  of  land  east  of  said  highway 
and  the  last  mentioned  lands  and  buildings  bought  by  me 
of  Isaac  Henderson. 

6.  I  also  give  her  one  half  of  all  my  government 


344  WILLIAM    CULLKN  BRYANT. 

bonds  and  government  securities  of  whatever  nature, 
subject,  however,  to  charges  hereinafter  mentioned. 

I  also  except  from  the  Mudge  Farm  bequeathed  to 
the  said  Fanny  four  acres  hereinafter  mentioned  on  the 
northeast  corner  of  said  farm. 

7.  Moreover  I  give  to  my  said  daughter  Fanny  the 
Snell  Farm  in  Cummington,  purchased  by  me  of  a  Mr. 
Ellis,  with  all  the  buildings  thereon  and  a  right  of  way 
thereto  by  a  road  now  made,  but  reserving  from  this 
bequest  the  use  of  certain  springs  on  the  northeast  cor 
ner  of  the  farm  now  used  by  me  on  the  Bryant  Home 
stead. 

1.  I  give  to  my  second  daughter  Julia  Sands  Bryant 
all  my  real  estate   in  Roslyn  not  devised  to  the  other 
daughter,  including  the  dwelling-houses,  and  buildings 
now   occupied  by  George  B.  Cline   and  W.  D.  Wilson 
—  a  tract  of   land  extending  from  the   highway  near 
the  shore  to  the  highway  passing  by  the  Roslyn  Ceme 
tery. 

2.  I  give    also    to    my    said    daughter  Julia  all  my 
books,  pictures,   engravings,  furniture,  and  other  mov 
ables,   animals,  carriages,  farming  implements,  and  my 
crops  gathered  or  on  the  fields  on  whatsoever  part  of  my 
real  estate  at  Roslyn  they  may  be. 

3.  I  also  give  her  all  my  real  estate  in  the  city  of 
New  York. 

4.  Also  all  my  real  estate  in  the  State  of  Illinois. 

5.  Also  the  farm  and  buildings  in  Cummington  called 
the  Bryant  Homestead,  with  the  use  of  the  springs  in  the 
northeastern  corner  of  the  Snell  Farm  as  said  springs 
are  now  used. 

6.  Also   all  my  furniture,  books,  pictures,  and   other 
movables  of  every  kind  at  the  Bryant  Homestead  afore- 


APPENDIX.  345 

said,  and  at  Number  24  West  Sixteenth  Street  in  the 
city  of  New  York. 

7.  Also  one  half  of  my  government  bonds  and  govern 
ment  securities  of  whatever  nature,  subject  to  charges 
hereinafter  mentioned. 

1.  I  give  to  my  two  daughters  already  named  all  my 
right,  title,  and  interest  in  the  Evening  Post  newspaper 
establishment  and  job  printing  office,  and  all  the  per 
sonal  property  appertaining,  and  debts  due  to  the  same, 
to  be  possessed  by  them  in  such  a  manner  that  each 
shall  have,  together  with  what  interest  therein  she  may 
possess  before  my  death,  an  equal  share  with  the  other. 
And  this  they  are  to  take  subject  to  any  indebtedness 
which   may  appear  against   me   on  the  books  of   the 
Evening  Post,  and  subject  also  to  any  charges  herein 
after  mentioned. 

2.  I  also  give  my  said  two  daughters  jointly  all  my 
property  in  the  copyright  of  any  of  my  published  writ 
ings. 

1.  I  give  to  George  B.  Cline,  of  Roslyn  aforesaid, 
four  acres  of  land  in  the  northeastern  corner  of  the 
Mudge  Farm  in  one  quadrangular  parcel  at  the  intersec 
tion  of  the  two  highways,  to  be  set  off  to  him  in  such 
a  manner  that  the  width  of  two  acres  shall  be  on  each 
highway. 

2.  I  also  bequeath  to  the  said  Cline  eight  thousand 
dollars,  to  be  paid  out  of  the  profits  of  the  Evening 
Post  if  any  be  due  me  on  the  books,  and  if  not,  then 
out  of  the  government  bonds  and  securities  aforemen 
tioned. 

1.  I  bequeath  to  William  Bryant  Cline,  son  of  the 
said  George  B.  Cline,  two  hundred  dollars,  to  be  paid  out 
of  the  same  funds. 


346  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

If  either  of  my  daughters  should  die  without  children, 
I  direct  that  whatever  she  is  to  receive  by  this  instru 
ment  shall  go  to  her  surviving  sister.  I  direct  further 
that  the  property  given  to  my  daughters  shall  be  settled 
upon  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  free  from  any 
intermeddling  or  control  of  the  husband  of  either  of 
them. 

In  case  that  I  should  survive  both  of  my  daughters 
and  their  children  and  direct  descendants,  I  direct  that 
my  estate,  after  paying  the  legacies  to  other  persons, 
shall  be  divided  among  my  nephews  and  nieces  and  the 
nephews  and  nieces  of  my  late  wife  Fanny  Fairchild 
Bryant,  each  of  them  to  receive  an  equal  share  with 
the  exception  that  Mrs.  Ellen  T.  Mitchell,  daughter  of 
my  sister  Sarah,  and  Mrs.  Hannah  H.  Culver,  daughter 
of  my  wife's  sister  Esther  Henderson,  and  Anna  R. 
Fairchild,  daughter  of  my  wife's  brother  Egbert  N. 
Fairchild,  shall  receive  each  a  share  twice  as  large  as 
the  shares  of  the  others. 

Should  I  die  possessed  of  any  property  not  herein 
specified,  I  direct  it  to  be  equally  divided  between  my 
two  daughters,  or  if  that  cannot  be  done,  then  I  direct 
that  it  follow  the  disposition  of  the  other  property  made 
by  this  will. 

I  give  to  each  of  my  grandchildren  living  at  my 
death  a  copy  of  my  poems  of  such  edition  as  they  may 
choose. 

I  empower  my  executors  to  convey  my  real  estate  by 
deed  whenever  it  shall  become  necessary  or  expedient. 

I  constitute  my  friends  John  A.  Graham,  John  Bige- 
low,  John  H.  Platt,  George  B.  Cline,  and  my  daughter 
Julia  S.  Bryant  executors  of  this  my  last  will  and  testa 
ment. 


APPENDIX.  347 

I  revoke  all  my  previous  wills  and  codicils. 

In  testimony  whereof  I  have  hereunto  set  my  hand 
and  seal  this  sixth  day  of  December  in  the  year  one 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  seventy-two. 

WM.  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

Signed,  sealed,  and  published  by  the  testator,  etc.,  etc. 

ISAAC  HENDERSON,  18  West  54th  St.,  N.  Y. 
ALBERT  H.  KING,  563  Willoughby  Ave.,  Br. 
ISAAC  HENDERSON,  JR.,  18  West  54th  St.,  N.  Y. 


INDEX. 


Abbotsford,  187. 

Academy  of  Design,  231. 

Adams,  John  Quincy,  150. 

"Ages,  The,"  52,  148. 

Alden,  Anna,  3. 

Alden,  Captain  John,  3. 

Alden,  Rev.  Dr.,  160,  275,  278. 

Alger,  Rev.  W.  R.,  address  on  Bryant's 
reception  by  the  Goethe  Club,  252. 

Allen,  Dr.,  225. 

American  Citizen,  The,  316. 

American  Free  Trade  League,  dinner 
to  Bryant  on  resigning  its  presi 
dency,  231. 

Anderson,  Henry  J.,  edits  Atlantic 
Magazine,  55  ;  associated  with  Bry 
ant  in  editing  the  New  York  Review 
and  Athenaeum  Magazine,  60  ;  prom 
ises  to  find  a  purchaser  of  the  Even 
ing  Post,  86. 

Andrews,  M.,  publishes  first  collection 
of  Bryant's  poems  in  England,  122. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  Hartley  Coleridge 
reads  the  lines  "  To  a  Waterfowl  " 
to,  42. 

Athenaeum,  The,  55. 

Atlantic  Magazine,  The,  55. 

Atlantic  Monthly,  publishes  Bryant's 
translation  from  the  fifth  book  of 
the  Odyssey,  161. 

Audax  paupertas,  21. 

Aurora,  The,  newspaper  edited  by 
William  Duane,  316. 

"Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table," 
223. 

Bancroft,   George,   president    of   the 

Century  Association,  219. 
Barlow,  Joel,  Bryant's  opinion  of ,  as  a 

poet,  40,  47. 
Bartlett,  Dr.,  editor  of  the  Albion,  his 

newspaper  ethics,  100. 
Battle  of*  the  Kegs,  The,  by  Francis 

Hopkinson,  46. 
Baylies,   William,  Bryant  enters  his 

office  as  a  student  of  law,  27  ;  their 

confidential  relations,  29,  35. 


Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  his  sermons, 
274. 

Bellows,  Dr.  Henry  W.,  Bryant  at 
tends  his  church,  275 ;  remarks  on 
the  regularity  of  Bryant's  attend 
ance  and  his  religious  life,  279,  384  ; 
delivers  Bryant's  funeral  discourse, 
305,  307. 

Bennett,  James  Gordon,  influence  on 
American  journalism,  72. 

Benvenuto  Cellini,  236. 

Biddle,  Nicholas,  encouraged  delirious 
speculation,  333. 

Bierstadt,  contributes  to  the  portfolio 
presented  to  Bryant  on  his  seven 
tieth  birthday,  231. 

Bigelovv,  John,  invites  Bryant  to  head 
the  Tilden  electoral  ticket  for  the 
presidency,  243 ;  delivers  a  commem 
orative  address  on  Bryant's  death 
before  the  Century  Club,  309  ;  be 
comes  part  proprietor  of  the  Even 
ing  Post,  339 ;  named  one  of  the 
executors  of  Bryant's  will,  347. 

Blanc,  Louis,  Bryant  meets  him  in 
London,  189. 

Boggs,  William  G.,  sells  his  interest 
in  the  Evening  Post,  335. 

Boker,  Mr.,  poetical  tribute  to  Bryant 
on  his  seventieth  birthday,  225,  230. 

Bolingbroke,  289. 

Bonaparte,  disciplined  by  young  Bry 
ant,  16,  91 ;  when  First  Consul  Bry 
ant  began  to  read  newspapers,  234. 

Bread  and  Milk  College,  11. 

Bridgewater,  21,  26. 

Brooks,  CharlesF.,225. 

Brooks,  Phillips,  279. 

Brown,  J.  G.,  contributes  to  the  art 
ists'  portfolio  presented  to  Bryant 
on  his  seventieth  birthday,  231. 

Browne,  Solyman,  45. 

Burns,  Robert,  his  monument,  185. 

Bryant,  Arthur,  237. 

Bryant,  Dr.  Peter,  4,  5, 8,  note,  39, 259, 
274. 

Bryant,  Dr.  Philip,  4,  27. 


350 


INDEX. 


Bryant,  Ichabod,  4. 

Bryant,  John  C.,  86,  88,  149,  166,  197, 

Bryant,  Miss  Julia  Sands,  some  remi 
niscences  of  her  father,  278,  280, 
301 ;  the  inspiration  of  some  of  his 
sweetest  poems,  309  ;  named  an  ex 
ecutrix  of  his  will,  344. 

Bryant,  Mrs.  William  C.,  ill  at  Naples, 
190 ;  death,  191 ;  lines  to  her  mem 
ory,  192,  269. 

Bryant,  Stephen,  3. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen,  precocity,  2, 
9  ;  ancestry,  3 ;  a  good  speller,  10  ; 
a  fleet  runner,  11 ;  learns  Latin  and 
Greek,  11 ;  receives  Sd  for  a  rhymed 
version  of  the  first  chapter  of  Job, 
12 ;  passion  for  poetry,  and  prays  to 
be  a  poet,  13  ;  the  "  Embargo,"  14- 
16;  enters  Williams  College,  17; 
lines  on,  18  ;  studies  law,  25,  27  ; 
first  love,  26  ;  reads  a  Fourth  of  July 
poem,  28 ;  denounces  the  War  of 
1812  and  President  Madison,  29; 
counsels  resistance  to  the  federal 
government,  29  ;  obtains  a  commis 
sion  as  adjutant  in  the  Massachu 
setts  infantry,  32 ;  admitted  to  the 
bar,  33 ;  opens  a  law  office  at  Plain- 
field,  34  ;  removes  to  Great  Barring- 
ton,  35  ;  "  Thanatopsis  "  published, 
40  ;  "To  a  Waterfowl,"  42,  44  ;  es 
say  on  American  poetry,  46 ;  chosen 
tithing-man  and  justice  of  the  peace, 
50 ;  death  of  his  father,  50 ;  marries, 
51;  reads  "The  Ages"  before  the 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  at  Harvard 
College,  52 ;  first  collection  of  his 
poems  published,  53 ;  visits  Boston, 
53;  first  visit  to  New  York,  56; 
contributions  to  the  United  States 
Literary  Gazette,  56;  death  of  his 
sister,  57;  revisits  New  York,  60; 
writes  for  the  New  York  Review, 
61,  63;  removes  to  New  York,  61, 
63  ;  lectures  on  English  poetry,  64  ; 
appointed  professor  in  a  school  of 
the  National  Academy  of  Design, 
64;  lectures  on  mythology,  64;  a 
literary  adventurer,  64 ;  becomes 
joint  editor  and  quarter  owner  of 
the  United  States  Review  and  Lit 
erary  Gazette,  65 ;  "  The  Journey  of 
Life,"  66;  enters  the  office  of  the 
Evening  Post,  67  ;  becomes  part  pro 
prietor,  68  ;  edits  the  Talisman,  68  ; 
contributions  to  the  United  States 
Review,  68  ;  becomes  editor-in-chief 
of  the  New  York  Evening  Post,  69 ; 
his  editorial  habits,  72  ;  advice  to  a 
young  journalist,  73 ;  force  of  his 
example,  76 ;  sympathizes  with 


President  Jackson  and  the  Demo 
cratic  party,  78  ;  his  views  on  public 
questions,  78 ;  the  riots  of  1863,  84  ; 
tires  of  journalism,  86  ;  purchases  a 
country  home  at  Roslyn,  94 ;  pur 
chases  the  old  homestead  at  Cum- 
mington,  95 ;  poems  published  in 
London,  117  ;  his  opinion  of  Samuel 
Rogers,  123 ;  letter  to  the  Plain- 
dealer  commenting  upon  Mr.  Ir- 
ving's  defense  of  the  alteration  he 
permitted  to  be  made  in  the  English 
edition  of  Bryant's  poems,  136 ;  not 
a  writer  of  occasional  poems,  148 ; 
reads  a  poem  before  the  New  York 
Historical  Society  on  the  occasion  of 
its  fiftieth  anniversary,  150 ;  why  he 
never  wrote  a  long  poem,  154 ;  no 
taste  for  music,  156 ;  translates 
Homer,  160,  162,  168 ;  its  sale,  169  ; 
compared  with  that  of  Pope's  trans 
lation,  170  ;  visits  his  brothers  in 
Illinois,  176 ;  writes  "  The  Prairies," 
177  ;  sails  for  Europe,  178 ;  first  im 
pressions  of  France  and  Italy,  179  ; 
sails  for  New  York,  179  ;  returns  to 
Europe,  181 ;  returns  to  New  York, 
182  ;  his  reception  in  England,  182  ; 
visits  Cuba,  185;  third  voyage  to 
Europe,  186 ;  fourth  voyage  to  Eu 
rope,  188 ;  visits  the  East,  188  ;  fifth 
voyage  to  Europe,  190  ;  Mrs.  Bryant 
ill  at  Naples,  190;  death  of  Mrs. 
Bryant,  191;  sixth  and  last  trip 
across  the  Atlantic,  194 ;  meets 
Hawthorne,  194  ;  visits  Mexico,  197  ; 
publishes  "  Letters  of  a  Traveler," 
198 ;  commemorative  discourses, 
203  ;  his  memory,  212,  292  ;  declines 
an  invitation  to  a  public  dinner  on  his 
return  from  his  first  visit  to  Europe, 
217  ;  declines  the  office  of  regent  of 
the  university,  217 ;  his  seventieth 
birthday  celebrated  by  the  Century 
Association,  his  speech  on  the  occa 
sion,  219;  public  dinner  on  resign 
ing  the  presidency  of  the  American 
Free  Trade  League,  231 ;  receives  an 
address  and  testimonial  on  his  eight 
ieth  birthday,  232 ;  a  guest  of  Gov 
ernor  Tilden,  at  Albany,  238 ;  a  pub 
lic  reception  tendered  him  by  the 
legislature,  238  ;  declines  to  let  his 
name  head  the  Tilden  electoral 
ticket  for  the  presidency,  244-248  ; 
did  not  vote  for  either  candidate  for 
President  in  1876,  251  ;  delivers  an 
address  at  a  reception  given  him  by 
the  Goethe  Club,  252  ;  letter  in  re 
gard  to  his  personal  habits,  2GO ; 
elected  president  of  the  New  York 
Homoeopathic  Society,  and  delivers 


INDEX. 


351 


his  inaugural  address,  264 ;  unites 
with  "  the  visible  church,"  281 ; 
"  The  Cloud  on  the  Way,"  283  ;  his 
notions  of  charity  not  conventional, 
286  ;  founds  libraries  at  Roslyn  and 
Cummington,  288  ;  his  dignity,  295  ; 
death,  301 ;  reminiscences  of  the 
first  half  century  of  the  Evening 
Post,  312  ;  his  will,  343. 

Buckminster,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  274. 

Bunker  Hill,  4. 

Burgoyne,  General,  Bryant's  grandfa 
ther  witnessed  his  surrender,  4. 

Burnham,  Michael,  becomes  business 
manager  of  the  Evening  Post,  67, 
320. 

Butler,  Charles,  43. 

Byron,  Lord,  his  views  of  ethical  po 
etry,  120. 

Calvinism  in  New  England,  274. 

Carnochan,  Dr.,  consulted  in  Bryant's 
last  illness,  300. 

Carter,  James  G.,  65. 

Cass,  General  Lewis,  185. 

Cedarmere,  purchased  by  Bryant,  94, 
266. 

Cellini,  Benvenuto,  236. 

Centennial  year  (1876),  Bryant  de 
clines  to  write  a  poem  for,  150. 

Century  Association  celebrate  Bry 
ant's  seventieth  birthday,  219,  223, 
309. 

Channing,  Edward  T.,  1. 

Channing,  William  Ellery,  274. 

Chapman,  Mr.,  publisher  in  London, 
Bryant  attends  one  of  his  recep 
tions,  188. 

Cheetham,  James,  editor  of  American 
Citizen,  316. 

Chicago  Literary  Club  celebrates  Bry 
ant's  eightieth  birthday,  237. 

Christ  "the  perfect  model,"  276. 

Church,  Dr.,  features  of  his  verse, 46. 

Church,  Frederick  E.,  contributes  to 
the  portfolio  presented  by  the  art 
ists  of  the  Century  Association  to 
Bryant  on  his  seventieth  birthday, 
231. 

Cline,  George  B.,  84, 265, 269,  271,  278, 
286,  287,  344,  345. 

Cline,  William  Bryant,  345. 

Cole,  Thomas,  Bryant's  discourse  on, 
202. 

Coleman,  William,  first  editor  of  the 
Evening  Post,  67,  69,  312  ;  shoots 
Thompson  in  a  duel,  317. 

Coleridge,  Hartley,  reads  Bryant's 
lines  "  To  a  Waterfowl  "  to  Mat 


thew  Arnold,  43. 
College,  Bread  and  Milk,  11. 
College,  Harvard,  52,  148,  275. 


College,  Williams,  17,  148,  206. 

College,  Yale,  18. 

Collyer,  Rev.  Robert,  237. 

Colinan  contributes  to  the  portfolio 
presented  by  the  artists  of  the  Cen 
tury  Association  to  Bryant  on  his 
seventieth  birthday,  231. 

Columbus,  91. 

Convention,  Hartford,  32. 

Cooper,  J.  Fenimore,  56 ;  Bryant's 
discourse  on,  203,  294. 

Cowper,  William,  62,  159. 

Coxe,  Bishop,  225. 

Croaker  &  Co.,  323. 

Cromwell,  91. 

Culver,  Mrs.  Hannah  H.,  346. 

Cummington,  1,  8. 

Curtis,  George  William,  302,  309. 

D'Alembert,  note,  156. 

Dana,  Richard  H.,  one  of  the  managers 
of  the  North  American  Review,  1  ; 
skeptical  about  "  Thanatopsis  "  hav 
ing  been  written  on  the  western  side 
of  the  Atlantic,  2  ;  declines  an  edi 
torial  position  on  the  Evening  Post, 
67  ;  urges  Bryant  to  renounce  poli 
tics  and  stick  to  poetry,  10.5 ;  chokes 
over  the  dedication  of  Bryant's  po 
ems  to  Rogers,  122;  urges  Bryant 
to  write  a  long  poem,  155,  291. 

Darwin,  Dr.,  his  theory  of  evolution, 
206,  254. 

Davezac,  Auguste,  338. 

Dawes,  Mr.,  259,  267,  268,  270. 

Derby,  J.  C.,  correspondence  about 
the  candidates  for  President  in  1876, 
246-250. 

Dewey,  Chester,  professor  at  Williams 
College,  17. 

Dewey,  Dr.  Orville,  165,  191,  264,  275. 

Dewey,  Miss  Jane,  279. 

Dickens,  Charles,  291. 

Dorsheirner,  Lieutenant-Governor,  ad 
dress  as  president  of  the  Senate  to 
Bryant,  228. 

Douglass,  Senator  Stephen  A.,  28. 

Drake,  Rodman,  323. 

Dryden,  John,  151. 

Duane,  William,  editor  of  The  Aurora, 
316. 

Durand,  John,  231. 

Dwight  as  a  poet,  Bryant's  opinion  of, 
46,  47. 

Dwight,  Theodore,  editor  of  the  Daily 
Advertiser,  321. 

Edinburgh,  184. 

Eliot,  George,  188. 

Ely,  Rev.  Dr.,  275,  278. 

"  Embargo,"  a  satire,  15,  16. 

Emerson,    Ralph   Waldo,  tribute   to 


352 


INDEX. 


Bryant  on  his  seventieth  birthday, 
228. 

Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  has  no  arti 
cle  devoted  to  Bryant,  121. 

Evening  Post,  The  New  York,  67,  70, 
72,  89,  17G,  179;  Bryant's  reminis 
cences  of,  312  ;  bequeathed  to  his 
daughters,  345. 

Everett,  Edward,  Bryant  breakfasts 
with,  124;  his  opinion  of  Bryant's 
poetry,  158,  213,  225,  230. 

Fairchild,  Anna  R.,  34G. 

Fairchild,  Egbert  N.,  346. 

Fields,  Osgood  &  Co.,  publish  Bryant's 
translations  from  Homer,  162. 

Fitch,  Dr.,  President  of  Williams  Col 
lege,  17, 18. 

Follen,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles,  275. 

France,  Bryant's  first  impressions  of, 
177. 

Franklin,  Dr.  Benjamin,  70. 

Free  Soil  Party,  105. 

Free  Trade  League,  182,  210,  221. 

Freneau,  Philip,  Bryant's  opinion  of 
his  poetry,  46. 

Gazette,  The  United  States  Literary, 
56. 

Gilford,  contributes  to  the  artists'  port 
folio  presented  to  Bryant  on  his  sev 
entieth  birthday,  231. 

Glasgow,  184. 

Godwin,  Bryant,  84. 

Godwin,  Fanny  Bryant,  343,  344. 

Godwin,  Parke,  the  fame  of  "  Thana- 
topsis,"  40 ;  anecdote  about  the  poem 
"To  a  Waterfowl."  42-44;  remi 
niscences  of  Bryant  as  an  editor,  113, 
246,  251,  291  ;  marries  Miss  Bryant, 
309 ;  associated  with  Bryant  in  the 
Evening  Post,  337. 

Goethe  Club  gives  Bryant  a  reception, 
252. 

Graham,  John  A.,  300;  executor  of  | 
Bryant's  will,  346. 

Gram,  Dr.  Hans  B.,  first  apostle  of 
homoeopathy  in  New  York,  263. 

Grant,  Ulysses  S.,  Bryant's  estimate 
of,  242. 

Gray,  Dr.  John  F.,  Bryant's  physi 
cian,  301. 

Gray,  Mr.,  contributes  to  the  artists' 
portfolio  presented  to  Bryant  oil  his 
seventieth  birthday,  231. 

Great  Barrington,  Bryant  established 
there  as  a  lawyer,  35,  61,  62,  259. 

Green,  Joseph,  46. 

"Green  River,"  41. 

Hale,  John  P.,  105. 
Hallain,  Henry,  183. 


Halleck,  Fitz-Greene,  56, 203,  217,  225, 

322,  323. 

Halleck,  Moses,  11,  12. 
Hamilton,    Philip,    "  murdered    in   a 

duel,"  316. 

Harrison,  President  William  Henry, 
338.  " 

Hartford  Convention,  32. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  meets  Bryant 
in   Rome,  194;    his  impressions  of 
the  poe.t,  194. 

Hayes,  Rutherford  B.,  248,  251. 
Henderson,  Isaac,  84,  246,  343,  347. 
Henderson,  Isaac,  Jr.,  347. 
Henderson,  Mrs.,  aunt  of  Mrs.  Bryant, 

51,346. 

Hennessey,   Mr.,   contributes   to  the 
portfolio  presented  by  the  artists  of 
the  Century  to  Bryant  on  his  seven 
tieth  birthday,  231. 
Herald,  The  New  York,  71,  100. 
Herschel,  Sir  John,  183. 
Hicks,   Thomas,    contributes    to    the 
portfolio  presented  by  the  artists  of 
the  Century  to  Bryant  on  his  seven 
tieth  birthday,  231. 
Historical    Society,    the    New  York, 
Bryant  reads  a  poem  before,  on  its 
fiftieth  anniversary,  150. 
Holmes,   Oliver   Wendell,   tribute    to 
Bryant  on  his  seventieth  birthday, 
223,  225. 
Holland,   Dr.,    editor  of    the  Times, 

challenges  Bryant,  334. 
Homer,  Bryant  undertakes  the  trans 
lation  of,  160;  the  publication  of, 
162. 

Homoeopathy,  Bryant  embraces  the 
system,  and  elected  president  of 
the  New  York  Homoeopathic  Socie 
ty,  264. 

Honeywood,  St.  John,  48. 
Hopkins,  46,  47. 
Houghton,  Lord,  182. 
Howe,  Julia  Ward,  225. 
Howe,  Mr.,  25. 
Howe,  Timothy  A.,  327. 
Humphreys,  46,  47. 
Huntington,  Daniel,  231. 

"Inscription  at  the  Entrance  to  a 
Wood,"  40. 

Irving,  Washington,  inquires  about 
Bryant  and  Halleck,  118;  promises 
to  find  a  publisher  in  London  for 
Bryant's  poems,  120 ;  sends  a  copy 
of  the  London  edition  to  Bryant, 
121 ;  replies  to  the  charge  by  Wm. 
Leggett  of  "  literary  pusillanimity," 
138,  182. 

Italy,   Bryant's  first  impressions  of, 


INDEX. 


353 


Jackson,  President  Andrew,  84,  327, 

328. 

Jefferson,  President  Thomas,  14,  15. 
Jeffrey,  Lord,  187. 
Johnson,  Eastman,  contributes  to  the 

portfolio    presented  to  Bryant    by 

the  artists  of  the  Century  on  his 

seventieth  birthday,  231. 
Jones,  Sir  William,  life  of,  reconciles 

Bryant  to  the  study  of    the  law, 

25. 
Journalism,    71,    100,    111;   Bryant's 

opinion  of,  as  a  profession,  340. 
Juarez,  President  of  Mexico,  Bryant's 

reception  by,  197. 

Katejeneff,  Professor,  translates  po 
ems  of  Bryant  into  the  Russian 
tongue,  231. 

Kensett,  W.,  one  of  the  contributors 
to  the  portfolio  presented  to  Bry 
ant  on  his  seventieth  birthday  by 
the  artists  of  the  Century,  231. 

King,  Albert  H.,  347. 

Kingsley,  Canon,  289. 

Lafarge,  W.,  one  of  the  contributors 
to  the  portfolio  presented  by  the 
artists  of  the  Century  to  Mr.  Bry 
ant  on  his  seventieth  birthday,  231. 

Leggett,  William,  establishes  the 
Plaindealer,  129,  132  ;  accuses 
Washington  Irving  of  "  literary  pu 
sillanimity,"  129  ;  associated  with 
Bryant  in  the  Evening  Post,  178, 
327,329;  retires  from  the  Evening 
Post  and  establishes  the  Plaindealer, 
332. 

League,  The  Free  Trade,  182,  210. 

Leroux,  Pierre,  189. 

"  Letters  of  a  Traveler,"  198. 

Leutze,  Mr.,  one  of  the  contributors  to 
the  portfolio  presented  by  the  artists 
of  the  Century  to  Mr.  Bryant  on  his 
seventieth  birthday,  231. 

Licinus,  Caesar's  barber,  lines  on,  216. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  80, 106 ;  first  meet 
ing  with  Bryant,  177;  lectures  in 
New  York,  218. 

Longfellow,  descended  from  John  Al- 
den  of  the  Mayflower,  3;  deplores 
the  drudgery  of  his  life  as  a  profes 
sor,  92 ;  Evangeline,  223. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  223;  poem 
read  at  the  celebration  of  Bryant's 
seventieth  birthday,  227. 

Lyell,  Dr.,  183. 

Magazine,  The  Atlantic,  55. 
Magazine,  The  New  York  Review  and 

Athenseum,  60. 
Malherbe,  156,  note. 


Mason,  Charles,  temporarily  in  charge 
of  the  Evening  Post,  331. 

Mayflower,  the  ship,  3. 

Mazzini,  214,  297. 

McEntee,  W.,  contributor  to  the  port 
folio  presented  by  the  artists  of  the 
Century  to  Bryant  on  his  seventieth 
birthday,  231. 

McFingal,  47. 

McGuire,  address  as  Speaker  of  the 
Assembly  to  Bryant,  240. 

Mechanics  Bank,  anecdote  of  J)hn 
Randolph,  209. 

Mexico,  111,  197. 

Milnes,  Monckton,  182. 

Milton,  John,  91,  92, 152,  158. 

Mitchell,  Ellen  T.,  346. 

Moll,  M.,  his  argument  against  the  rev 
olution  of  the  earth  on  its  axis,  212. 

Montgomery,  James,  appearance  de 
scribed,  183. 

Moore,  Tom,  Bryant  meets  him  at 
breakfast,  182 ;  Rogers'  anecdote  of, 
187. 

Morse,  Professor,  tribute  to,  by  Bry 
ant,  204. 

Mullins,  Priscilla,  ancestor  both  of 
Bryant  and  Longfellow,  3. 

Murray,  John,  declines  to  publish 
Bryant's  poems,  119,  121. 

Mythology,  Bryant  lectures  on,  64. 

New  York  city,  dirty,  noisy,  uncom 
fortable,  and  dear,  87. 

New  York  Historical  Society,  Bryant 
reads  a  poem  before,  on  its  fiftieth 
anniversary,  150. 

New  York  Review,  61. 

Nordhoff,  Charles,  272. 

Occasional  poems,  Bryant  not  a  writer 

of,  148. 
Odyssey,  Bryant's  translations  from 

fifth  book,  160. 
Old  age,  220. 

Osgood,  Rev.  Samuel,  275. 
O'Sullivan,  John  L.,  338. 

Paine,  Robert  Treat,  48. 

Parsons,  Chief  Justice,  398,  note. 

Parsons,  Theophilus,  56. 

Paulding,  James,  217. 

Paupertas,  audax,  21. 

Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  reads  "  The 
Ages"  before,  52,  148,  213. 

Phillips,  Willard,  editor  of  The  North 
American  Review,  1,  38-40. 

Pierce,  President  Franklin,  105. 

Pierpont,  Rev.  John,  tribute  to  Bry 
ant  on  his  seventieth  birthday,  223, 
225,  227. 

Plaindealer,    The,    letter    to,    from 


354 


INDEX. 


Washington  Irving,  129 ;  established 
by  William  Leggett,  332. 

Plainfield,  Bryant  begins  the  practice 
of  the  law  at,  34 ;  writes  the  lines 
"  To  a  Waterfowl  "  at,  42. 

Platt,  John  H.,  an  executor  of  Bry 
ant's  will,  346. 

Pope,  Alexander,  his  paper-saving 
habit,  110;  advised  to  make  "  cor 
rectness  his  great  aim,"  155  ;  Bryant 
flitters  with,  about  the  necessity  of 
rhyme  for  a  translation  of  Homer, 
163  ;  his  Homer  not  all  his  own 
work,  1G8 ;  Bryant's  pocket  com 
panion,  292. 

Poverty,  enterprising,  21. 

Powers,  Rev.  R.  N.,  tribute  to  Bry 
ant  on  his  seventieth  birthday,  226 ; 
discourse  on  Bryant  before  the  Chi 
cago  Literary  Club,  237  ;  Bryant's 
estimate  of  Grant  in  a  letter  to, 
242. 

"Quaker  poet,"  The,  tribute  to  Bry 
ant  on  his  seventieth  birthday,  231. 
Quarles,  93. 

Randolph,  John,  demands  cash  for  a 
note  of  the  Mechanics  Bank  of  New 
York,  209. 

Read,  T.  Buchanan,  tribute  to  Bryant 
on  his  seventieth  birthday,  225. 

Review,  New  York,  61. 

Review,  North  American,  1,  2,  27,  39, 
40,  46,  56. 

Review,  United  States,  and  Literary 
Gazette,  65. 

Richards,  Joseph  H.,  260. 

Riker,  Richard,  323. 

Ripley,  George,  214. 

Robinson,  Crabb,  184. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  Bryant's  poems  dedi 
cated  to,  by  Irving,  122  ;  his  opinion 
of,  123. 

Roslyn,  94,  288,  307,  343,' 344. 

Ruppaner,  Dr.,  253. 

Russian  Academy  of  St.  Petersburg 
elects  Bryant  an  honorary  member, 
232. 

Sands,  Robert  C.,  56,  68,  325. 
Scott,  Walter,  184. 
Scribner's  Monthly  on  Bryant,  303. 
Sedgwick,  Miss  Catharine  M.,  54,  55, 

225. 

Sedgwick,  Charles,  54,  148. 
Sedgwick,  Henry,  55,  09,  note. 
Sedgwick,  Professor,  183. 
Sedgwick,  Robert,  54,  56. 
Sedgwick,  Theodore,  Jr.,  85,  note. 
Sewell,  Rev.  Mr.,  54. 
fiigourney,  Miss,  223. 


Slave  trade  in  New  York,  315. 

Smith,  Goldwin,  225. 

Bnell,  Ebenezer,  4,  295. 

Snell,  Josiah,  3. 

Snell,  Sarah,  5. 

Snell,  Thomas,  11. 

Southey,  Robert,  187. 

Sparks,  Jared,  56. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  189. 

Sprague,  tribute  to  Bryant  on  his  sev 
entieth  birthday,  225. 

Stedman,  E.  C.,  tribute  to  the  memory 
of  Bryant,  309. 

Stockbridge,  35. 

Stoddard,  Richard  Henry,  tributes  to 
Bryant,  201,  225,  229,  309. 

Strong,  Caleb,  Governor,  gives  Bryant 
a  commission  in  the  Massachusetts 
army,  32. 

Sturges,  Jonathan,  232. 

Sumner,  Charles,  196. 

Swift,  Dean,  171. 

Talisman,  The,  Bryant  contributes  to, 
68. 

Tallmadge,  N.  P.,  driven  out  of  the 
Democratic  party,  333. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  tributes  to  Bryant. 
225-309. 

"  Thanatopsis,"  1,  40,  174. 

Thompson,  Mr.,  shot  in  a  duel  by 
Coleman,  317. 

"Thoughts  on  the  Religious  Life," 
Bryant's  preface  to,  275. 

Tilden,  Governor  Samuel  J.,  Ill  ; 
gives  Bryant  a  reception  at  the  cap- 
itol,  238;  Bryant  favorable  to  his 
nomination  for  governor,  242  ;  Bry 
ant  declines  to  serve  as  an  elector 
on  the  Tilden  presidential  ticket, 
244;  his  opinions  of  Tilden,  247, 
250. 

"  To  a  Waterfowl,"  42-44,  67. 

Trumbull,  his  verse,  46,  47. 

Tuckerman,  H.  T.,  225. 

Tweed,  William  M.,  a  monument  to 
his  memory  excluded  from  Central 
Park,  216. 

Tyler,  President  John,  338. 

United  States  Literary  Gazette,  56. 
United    States  Review  and  Literary 
Gazette,  65. 

Van  Buren,  President  Martin,  185, 337. 
"Vates,  Patriae,"  229. 
Verplanck,  Gulian    C.,  68,  111,   119, 
203,  217,  237. 

Walker,  Dr.,  225. 

Walsh,  William,  his  advice  to  Pope, 
155. 


INDEX. 


355 


Washington,  George,  Bryant's  poem 
on  his  birthday,  174. 

Waterfowl,  To  a,  42-44,  67. 

Waterston,  Rev.  Mr.,  administers  the 
communion  to  Bryant,  281. 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  tribute 
to  Bryant  on  his  seventieth  birth 
day,  223,  225. 

Williams,  Clifton,  47. 

Williams  College,  17,  148,  206. 

Willis,  N.  P.,  tribute  to  Bryant  on  his 
seventieth  birthday,  223,  229. 


Wilson,  James  Grant,  account  of  the 

death  of  Bryant,  298. 
Wordsworth,  William,  wears  Rogers' 

clothes  to  court,  128 ;  Bryant's  visit 

to,  184  ;  Rogers'  anecdote  of,  187. 
Worthington,  Bryant  commences  the 

study  of  law  at,  25,  268. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  quoted,  157. 

Yale  College,  18. 
Young,  Dr.,  151. 


a- 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


